Kisekino Spring Beginnings
by Pasonia Seltia Keros
Summary: In an alternate MS gameworld, where the island is a mega-continent, and armed conflicts accompany constant unrest, eleven men and women from all walks of life will band together to fight the threats nobody will ever hear of. This is just the beginning.
1. Universal Chapter 1: Dark Undercurrents

Universal Chapter 1: The Dark Undercurrents

_A/N: This Chapter can safely be skipped. However, if you so wish, after Kisekino has progressed further you can attempt to foreshadow what will happen next in my Maple Story tale._

**(The following are several excerpts from The Book of Foresight, a short but important historical text discovered in The 334th Year, Neo Maple Era [N.M. 334]**  
**Two hundred odd years later, historians are still grappling with the many schools, variations and intepretations of the cryptic text)**

_It was a legend spread through the lands of __**Victoria**_  
_That come one day the __**Earth**__ will experience the worst of __**humanity**_  
_Experience it did, ho, it one that withered all but the most resilient and sturdy_  
_Through the experience the __**Upper Conscious**__ have reason to believe_  
_That it was the final lesson for all mortal beings who walk, glide or swim_

_Alas, it was not to be the final tale_  
_The Upper Conscious' plans for humanity as a greater race has fallen apart_  
_As the mortals began recovering slowly, an Upper Conscious developed deviances_  
_One such deviance, in itself __**the antithesis of all other Upper Conscious**_  
_Hell no match for this Upper Conscious, neither was Heaven able enough._  
_The deviant, renouncing his identity and calling itself the __**Real One**_  
_Fought with Hell, Heaven and all Upper Conscious for twenty harrowing years_

_The __**Twenty Long Years**__ were a misery for the Upper Conscious and the mortals_  
_For day and night interchanged at such irregular intervals that there were __**no longer any clear distinction**_  
_The __**angels of lore**__ and the __**harbringers of death**__ found themselves unlikely allies_  
_As they sought to destroy the Real One and seal him into the space only known as __**Limbo**_

_Eventually, all dust had settled_  
_The Upper Conscious have sealed the Deviant into Limbo_  
_It was Pyrrhic, as was the grand tale of a lost king_  
_Heaven and Hell were not merely in disarray; they were completely non-functional_  
_As such, mortals could not die and enter the __**Wheels of Reincarnation**_  
_The mortal was in grand danger of becoming a sphere of undead_  
_As the secrets of __**Creation**__ were sealed by the hibernating __**True Conscious**_

_In desperation, the Upper Conscious decreed_  
_In order to restore Heaven and Hell, __**mortals shall be granted closer access to their very side**_  
_A new, conscious balance tweaked for the Wheels of Reincarnation to rotate_  
_Thus began a new age of magic once dominated by the __**Enlightened People under the Earth**_

***

_The Upper Conscious had feared for the day_  
_When mortals unlearn their lessons once again_  
_Heaven and Hell, however, were not in participation of such fear_  
_Heaven had too much to do; Hell was practically empty_  
_**By Lucifer**__, Hell cried, __**bring us more men**_

_The __**Fallen Archangel Lucifer**__ responded magnificently_  
_As the __**Fake Angel**__ planted, sowed, sprayed and soaked mortals once more_  
_Into the furious tendrils of conflicts_  
_Conflicts that turn into scuffles, scuffles which turn into battles_  
_Eventually, battles that turn into wars_

_Two hundred glorious, magnificent years of human work thus ended spectacularly_  
_As the lands of Kerning play host to deviants of the land who know half of magic_  
_Along with the __**worst of human creations - Weapons**_

_Kerning, a parcel of Victoria that was part of an ancient West_  
_Deserts in the North, beaches in the South_  
_And the __**hotbed of a hundred different armies**_  
_Amongst these armies, two eventually stood out_  
_**One which was intelligent, and the other which was passionate**_

_Wars were fought as armies sought to establish their might across Victoria_  
_It was eventually won by the one with __**a pristine aquamarine**__ and a __**clear head for intelligence**_  
_However, it was not before they engaged their __**bitter, passionate nemesis of a bright crimson**_  
_With prices to pay that were __**beyond the measure of Hell and Heaven**_

_The Enlightened People were thus seperated into four disciplines._  
_**The Isolated Ones **__lived on in the North, undeterred by __**the Heat of Perion**__ and determined never to interfere_  
_**The Original Enlightened**__, magical wards living in the __**Far East of Victoria**__ known as the __**Forests of Ellinia**_  
_**The Established Righteous**__, who sought, bore and became a beacon of courage and valor in the __**South**_  
_**The Corrupt Immoral**__, who were passionately against The Righteous and subjected to the worst of desires_

_However, merely __**half a century**__ would be enough to blur __**all the lines**__  
As humans began to debate amongst themselves the necessity for such distinctions.  
Eventually they would create such a tool that all but destroyed the differences  
One which they call __**"The Grand Chamber of Information"...**_

___Strange as it was, such a chamber was not entirely physical  
It was a replica of humanity's true finesse - and deviance, as unfortunate as it was  
While it promoted the exchange of ideas, it banded extremists together  
Yet the real controllers were not truly extremists, but talented, selfish individuals._

_The Upper Conscious cried as they watched their work unravel  
Half a millenia of hard work all gone for nought  
Despair, however, They did not  
As Heaven, Hell and all the Upper Conscious injected into humanity their __**Final Question**__  
__**"Do they require our help in order to achieve true consciousness once again?"**_

_This Final Question, the Upper Conscious decreed amongst themselves  
Will never occur again if humanity and the mortal world proved __**their existences can be mutual**__  
Yet, They have clearly forgotten their own lessons  
Residing in the __**null space of Limbo**__ was the Deviant of old..._


	2. Chapter 1: Spring Comes

**Spring Beginnings, Chapter 1: Spring Comes**

_**This is today's newsflash at seven-thirty, brought to you by the good people at KNN. Today's host - Darius Eisenhower.  
"Good evening Kerning City, thank you for tuning in to KNN at seven-thirty. Today's highlights on the coast will be on recent plans by the Maple World Government to expand Marines presence on the west coast following several armed assault on Kith Harbor ships ferrying supplies from Lith Harbor. Chief of Army, General Montegomery, has pledged to investigate on the recent occurances..."**_

_Not the news I wanted._ I'm more concerned about some rather disturbing intelligence I've just received from that woman. She seems to know a thing or two about the recent developments of armed conflict, since they were the first to happen on such a highly publicised note since seven years back.

The device I had in hand - Jerry, as I usually call it in honor of another person - beeped. I glanced at the device quickly, and found that that woman was on the line. That alone means no one could trace this call, then.

"Shiba?"  
"Yes, woman?"  
"You watching tonight's newsflash already?"  
"Yes, I already am. But other than the usual pledges and the minor social cases, there isn't much to look at."  
"Watch out for the next segment, then."  
"Whatever for?"  
"Do as you are told. Don't forget, you signed the agreement, so no questions."  
"Suits me just fine then," I remarked, hanging up on the connection and letting in some air from the night sky. Even then, the outside air at this hour was something most would find unbearable, and I wasn't so inhuman to not acknowledge that it is pretty disgusting to stay in this room full of worse-than-stale air for too long.

_**"And we're back from the intermission break. In another Marines-related newsflash tonight, the government has officially announced for the public recruitment of individuals skilled in ore-mining and combat skills, in addition to plans to initiate excavation on a newly discovered island forty kilometers off the south of Florina Beach.  
After reviewing photographs of the new island, it has been discovered that there are unknown individuals living on the island, in addition to the unusual occurance of a supply ship docking close by. Military experts believe that it could be a concealed Bloody Amaryllis mining project at work, and allowing the Bloody Amaryllis to proceed would be "suicidal."  
'Yes, definitely, there are some very dangerous hints of illegal activities going on. (Michael Hail, Professor, University of Kerning City Military Academic Head of Department) Leaving this unchecked would be disastrous since we are unsure where the vessel was headed for during its departure. Advanced mining machinery, normally under corporate control, could be an issue to look into. This has to be investigated, definitely, and the sooner the better.'  
In social news today, Pope Tristen III took time off to grace the Annual Expression Contest..."**_

... so _that _was the thing the woman wanted me to look into. Let's see if I can't get information from the access node...

***

The contestants' room was filled with a lot of people, as usual, but mostly these were authorised back-pass holders who wanted to take a good look at this Victorian Games' two very different contestants. A locker with a green/black schema Old World chinese shirt adorned by the side, was the one given more attention to.

Behind the locker, the Hunter-Assasin (more commonly known as Huntersin) inspected his ornately crafted bow with care as he pored over any minor details that could affect the competition. A hunter's life is his ranged weapon, and in Jake Kenders' case, it was his most precious Arund-class contest longbow. Having seen much of the action from the start of the Games, this bow had done all it could to lift the slender Huntersin within reach of a back-to-back Spring Championship trophy, a feat never attempted before because of the highly volatile and random nature of the Games, especially in the free-for-all Open Category contest.

"A little polish here will do, then," the boyish-looking Huntersin with a head of jet black hair mouthed off, as he delicately placed the finishing touches to his refining exercise, using a light liquid which neatly glossed the surface of the longbow. Under the dusk light, the longbow would sparkle brightly, and it would do well to impede his opponent's vision when he comes up close for a macho repartee.

On the other side, was a muscular-built man in his mid-twenties. Seated on a bench nearby, the entire time given for preparation by the Games committee was used in mediation as he slowly chanted a Highlander's battle verse. The man who hailed from the harsh desert-highlands of the North did nothing of the sort that his more illustrious opponent did, quietly mediating away in spite of more than a few amused glares in his direction. A black horse of the competition, punters rated Kai Yangoros at best odds of 10:1 for his relative inexperience, frequency of technical rather than outright wins, and supposed fatigue during the run-up to the finals, coming very close to defeat against a female Assasin whose only slip in the contest was to allow Kai time to recover, providing him with a much-needed opportunity to land several critical hits against his opponent, eventually achieving a technical win.

"Please insert your weapons into this capsule," an old man adorning the Games committee shirt requested from amidst a group of press reporters, with two contest bunnies (the name for girls in bunny suits, whose main role in the Games is to attract publicity) holding one gachapon-capsule, super-sized. Jake and Kai duly complied, inserting their equipment into the capsule. Just before the press dispersed, Kai offered his right hand forward.

"Let's do this. May the best man win," Kai gestured, his tone with just the right amount of testosterone.  
"Of course!" Jake replied in earnest, returning the favor in equal measures with a firm, steady handshake.

***

**Ladies and Gentleman, come on in and step right here! For this Channel Victorian show viewed by millions islandwide, today is this Spring's hottest contest, sponsored by none other than C.V. - Better than Reality!  
This is your host, Jack Braune, bringing to you The 57th Spring Victorian Games!**

**Today's Open Category Finals matchup is held at no other than the BlueWater Dusk Coliseum, an oval-shaped, bush-dotted stadia arena basking in the glow of the dusk as it lights up the arena ever so slightly; a perfect finale for this spring's action-packed contest, don't you think? The environment now is at a cooling nineteen degrees Celsius, just the right temperature to get everyone going!**

**The rules of the Games, for the convenience of first timers, go like this: A straightforward contest, as the fight is conducted within the boundaries of the arena. The time limit for each match is twenty minutes, and it's a one-round-settles-all contest, no overtime, no nothing. If anyone of the contestants collapse during a contest, the person has ten seconds to get up or forfeit the match.**

**Look at the crowd, ever so enthusiastic with the banners and everything, and even some cheers - would you believe it! - for the old-time contestants, as they emerge from the Tunnel into the Combatants' Stands. There, at the center, is Hector Match, winner of the Open Category contest five editions ago. The forty-year-old Games unarmed-combat veteran was knocked out of the contest in the Round of Eight by today's finalist, Kai Yangoros, in a closely-fought, electrifying battle that ended with a technical decision against him. A majority of fans polled post-match felt that Kai was lucky, but, as you know, decisions are decisions.**

**Less of the trivia, and let's get right on to the action! Today's Open Category Finals is a classic "range versus power" matchup, as Jake Kenders, our winner for the last Spring Games, puts forth a first attempt to defend his Open Category title, something never done by previous Game Winners! We have on the show as guest commentators:  
Trayner Baxter, president of the Victorian Games Committee and --  
Kyle Lin, personality sports reporter!  
Welcome on the show, Trayner, Kyle...**

"The Victorian Games, huh..."

The largest television in this district is a mere thirty-four inches, and an immediate sitting space before the television would normally fit no more than ten persons. Yet, for this poor men's zone, a run-down communal hall was housing over two hundred people huddled around the same decrepit electrical, haggling and growling loudly over heated discussions of the Games unfolding before their eyes.

"...That Hunter is in trouble. He has a problem with casting his magic sometimes, and it has affected him in almost every other contest. Irregular usage of mana..."  
"... That's interesting, what is it you're murmuring about, young girl?"

Lena Kotsworth's thought processes were broken into abruptly by a burly-looking middle-aged man, his hulking chest towering over her small frame.

"I... I was saying, that Jake Kenders might not win."  
"When they say blondes are stupid, they really mean it," growled the man impatiently. "Are you sure you know what you're talkin' about? He's a **sure-fire**! I placed twenty thousand mesos, banking on this guy winning!"  
"I believe this match would become a technical decision, because of Jake's erratic spell-casting... Kai is... is more reliable, because he has devastating power with his sword. The contest with that arrogant Assasin-class girl would be enough to tell."  
"Ya gotta be joking..."  
The hulking man looked at Lena, and gave a rather disapproving look.  
"Girl talk sure is... confusing! Yes, that's right, confusing! Blonde talk is worse!"  
"I wagered today's salary on this... one thousand," remarked Lena, ignoring the insults.  
"Good, you sure took your chances with little... because you might lose all of it," laughed the man as he reached over the far side of the table for a can of beer. "The odds are impossible, you see? Last I checked with Toto Joe the Booker--"  
"His odds climbed from twenty-five-on-one to fifty-six-on-one," interjected the young lady. "I know... I bought the ticket when his odds was fifty-four-on-one--"  
"OK, here goes! Quiet, little girl!"  
As the television's speakers echoed the signal for the fight to begin, the crowd of two hundred started to drown out the place with their impassioned shouting, cursing and swearing.

***

_**And we're off! Jake marks his presence in the B.D.C. with a very well-timed and accurate arrow, which narrowly misses as Kai Yangoros is forced to tumble aside to avoid damage. Kai is closing in on Jake now, but Jake is using - lord, no, three arrows at once, the triple-arrow tactic! - and Kai is forced to take cover! That would count against him in the match!**_

**Yes, indeed, it has been a wonderful start to the Open Cat. contest, with clear favourite Jake Kenders almost cleaning the entire arena clear of artificial cover! Once the cover is gone, that would count in Jake's favor with the judges! Oh, and look, Kai scrambles into the heavily forested area with a risky diversion using branches and stones from around the place! He's making himself look foolish now, but surprises can happen out here and I won't wanna be on the losing end!**

**Once again, this edition of the Victorian Games is brought to you by BlueWater Armors - Bringing you a safer Victorian Games with light contest armor!**

**_Back to the contest - oh! - it seems like Kai has finally gotten too close for comfort! Jake is now too close within range, and has to fire off distractions from his longbow in order to gain some distance and sight against Kai! This match is now even steven, with neither side yielding completely to the other's moves. Wow!_**

_**Kyle, how do you make of this?**_

_Well, I think heavily against Jake, as I've been saying for a long while already. His moves are mostly... I would say, amateurish, sometimes completely and conveniently forgetting his purpose for a certain manouvre, and he sometimes can't find great positions to take cover in. During the quarterfinals, swordsman Elanovich almost swooped over Jake with his rapid double-blade techniques, but was unfortunate to be caught dead in the chest area, and knocked out of the ring because of unnecessary exposure! Had it been for real, Jake's arrow would have killed the careless swordsman given the impact. Kai has been mostly a reliable bet for the entire contest, winning eight out of ten matches with technical decisions._

_**Same here, I think. I mean, Kai seems to play in a cautious manner, so his - hold a moment, look!**_

***

The burly guy beside Lena, unable to resist his utter surprise, bounced off his chair in shock; as did the rest of the people glued to the television set. It got so much attention that the vertically-challenged Lena was having trouble trying to watch - or even listen to - the match as commotion and protests rang among the two-hundred-odd.

"What an excellent move!" Yelled the voice from within the television set. "In one single precise attack, Jake was caught dead by Kai and was struck out of ring before Jake could even respond! **The match is over!**"

Since she did not catch the event happen, no thanks to the shock and the hoo-har that came and went with the people in front of the television set, she had to make do with the instant replay as the crowd continued to disperse in disappointment.

"Take a look one more time," announced Jack Braune. "As Jake whirls around, he finds Kai suddenly appearing from right behind him, but his Arund was not a shield and his dagger was not in time. The force of Kai's powerful sword technique effectively hurled him out of the arena, and with only his third non-technical knockout of the tournament, decided the match in just under two minutes!

Lena stopped for a while. _Why would a speedy Huntersin like Jake completely miss this move? _Then as the instant replay flashed through the screen for a second time, this time from a closer, on-the-ground angle not more than three meters away from the action, she understood why.

He simply... froze on the spot, she had concluded. It was not that Jake could not have reacted, Lena reasoned, given that he had grown a reputation for being the best counter-and-parrying combatant of the last Spring Victorian Games, a mean feat considering that neither the Assasin-class nor the Hunter-class were trained in such combat.  
It was that, for some reason unexplained, he simply just... _froze_.

"Lena Kotsworth?"

Lena turned around in surprise, not aware that she was totally lost on postgame analysis.

"I believe you've made a bet for the Finals?" Asked a blonde-haired strongman, a face of cleanly-cut features making him decidedly gentleman, and with an endearing, charming voice to boot. Lena blushed, but quickly concealed it in a heartbeat.  
"Oh, sorry, Mister Toto," she hurriedly apologised, handing over the ticket to Toto Joe. "This is a bet of a thousand mesos, at odds of fifty-four-on-one."  
"That would be fifty-four thousand mesos then," he remarked, quickly scrawling, and then handing over a rather dirtied Bank of Victoria cheque for that exact amount to Lena. "I've watched the match and heard your analysis. You will do well as a punter on the Games."  
"T-thanks, I think I was just being lucky..."  
"Ha, ha! I do think that sometimes people just need a little bit luck to get themselves out of downtrodden situations!" He chuckled, chugging a can of beer while he spoke. "Well, then, see you around next time! I've got little in the way of business since most of the people placed their money on that Huntersin, but I need my beer at Jason's little hole! Check ya later."

Before Lena stepped out of the communal hall, though, Joe pulled her back abruptly, firm yet not molesting.

"The Snarl is watching. He's also listening. It's fifty-four grand mesos, so be careful where you're going. I'd suggest the bank, if I were you."  
Lena peeked across the road. Sure enough, the hostilities were warming up really quickly. Amidst the crowd of sick men laying down on the streets begging for money for a quick fix, it was all too obvious the gangsterism that was ripping through the neighbourhood.

Lena walked out of the communal hall, with a nervous smile across her face as she placed her hands close to herself, cheque out of sight. On the other end of the street, she could see some really rapid, really manic whispering going on amongst the men and women of the district, and for some reason her gut feeling told her that she would be in danger pretty soon.

"What the hell... I had _better _get outta here soon."

Without another word, she went from brisk walking to a sprint, and soon her sprinting was picking up into a scrambling run; subsequently many other less savoury sprinters started their own.  
After her's, of course.

***

"What the hell... It had to act up at that point of time..."

Jake winced, not exactly injured but just pained from landing in an awkward position. After a short moment of trying to find his footing, he finally managed to prop himself up from where he had fallen into - atop safety mattresses laid out by the arena personnel for just this kind of situation. When he eventually got down from the mattresses, he was treated to a standing ovation by everyone within the arena. Somehow he felt wrong about the collective gesture, but nonetheless had to acknowledge and appreciate it even if he didn't completely understand what all the clapping and whooping was for.

"Even though Jake Kenders failed to defend his title, ladies and gentleman, we now have official word... that he has broken two of our Games' record by going on for fifty-one matches without losing, and for the most number of consecutive non-technical knockouts at eleven, besting the previous records by a very large margin!" Jack Braune walked towards Jake briskly, and held out the microphone for Jake.

"Jake, how do you feel about this loss now?" Jack Braune remarked, with just the right clear, bright tone that Jake thought all professional emcees should have had, since he had gone through one previous Victorian Games with a lousy, overtly cheerful female emcee.

"Er, well..." Jake blurted out nervously, "Well... I... I just kind of underperformed today. There was... maybe a bit too much showmanship for me, I would say, because Kai over there --" as he now looked in the winner's platform's direction, into Kai, his opponent, who applauded with the rest of the audience, "-- he caught me trying to break his game psychologically, and used that against me. Overall, I'd say I had a good game today, but it was too bad I couldn't defend my title. Nevertheless... Viva la Victoria!"

His parting shot, one that he felt he was not exactly in sync with, was accompanied by more cheering and whooping, as he was led slowly but surely on a rising platform, and with two bunny girls by his side, to the winner's platform. Jake didn't want to admit it, but that moment he had felt the bunny girls glare at him in a hostile manner.

"You almost made it, boy," remarked Trayner Baxter in his trademark deep-throated tone, as he handed over the runner's up medal to Jake, in and over his neck. All of a sudden, with the runner's up medal over his neck, the realisation hit Jake like a hammer on the proverbial wall; he'd just lost his title defense, albeit through some odd occurence that wasn't entirely his fault.  
With that sudden realisation, he felt too ashamed to be standing face-to-face with his victorious opponent, who calmly took the Spring Victorian Games trophy to a very loud, upbeat, and victorious tune, as well as a grandstanding parade complete with fireworks into the evening sky.

That instant, Jake muttered a hurried "excuse me", and slinked off into the locker room amidst the flash of cameras all around the arena. It was enough to split a man apart, the intense pressure.

***

"Damned it! _Damned it! Damned it!_"

Jake kicked very hard at his own locker, unable to fathom just why he could have just froze and stopped dead for Kai. He had gone for so many matches without incident at all, even if his spell-casting was a bit suspect at times.

"Why does it always happen to **me**? Why do I _always _choke at the last minute? Damned it, damned it **all**!"

His loudest kick on the locker echoed throughout the room, as if to ventilate his unspeakable despair away. Then the door swung open slowly, as if expecting for Jake to respond.

It was Kai, championship trophy still fresh on his hands. All the celebration has left inedible confetti all over the trophy, just like the last time Jake held the trophy. Jake was embarrassed totally, even ashamed to face Kai at all, yet strangely it wasn't Kai who started bragging or showing off.

"Mr. Kenders, I may not know you very well, but I acknowledge my luck in today's battle," began Kai in earnest.  
"Luck? How _lucky _would you have been, Mr. Yangoros? I didn't react in time, you hit me out-of-ring, game over. How hard could it have been?"  
"Very hard," was the candid reply. "I don't understand the reason behind it, but I realised you were... what was that called... ah, _paralysed_ for a moment."  
"... What do _you _know," Jake scoffed. "I lost, simple as that. No explanations."  
"... Well... at least you _knew_."  
"Knew what?"  
"That I was there. If you were not struck by the paralysis, I'd be exposed. Like Elanovich."  
"... For a winner of the Victorian Games, you sure are big on postgame analysis." Jake's tone began to soften down, much less on the aggression than before.  
"I like to review myself after such contests. Don't mind my weird habit, Mr. Kenders--"  
"Fine, Jake will do. Your name?"  
"Kai Yangoros. I'd prefer Kai if you would."

***

What does a person do with a cheque when he or she is poor? Cash it in, of course. But even that is difficult when you consider that Lena Kotsworth lives in West Berksley, and that a cheque was enough to lure a blood-hungry mob baying for her blood.

To think it was just a simple, innocuous bet on The Finals.

The nearest bank in which to bank in the money would be located at the other side of Trinity Street, the East-West border of the entire Berksley district. The street itself was clearly a class apart from most Kerning City locales; the bank was simply magnificent in the way it glossed and shone like a sparkling diamond. However, most people would end up at the teller's because the personal bankers would not serve West Berksley residents, as was the curt contents of a notice clearly pasted on each and every junction of Trinity Street.

"Ya don't have to say the same thing more than twice," remarked a panting Lena as she passed the fifth such notice along the same street. Suddenly, and without notice, her hands were forcefully yanked backwards as the mob group began an ambush on her, trying their best to snag the cheque away from Lena. Snapping herself free of the vice-like grip, Lena made a run for the other side of the road, underneath rather than atop a rather conveniently-built overhead bridge made for the express purpose of safe passage across the street.

"Lena Kotsworth! We know where you live! Hand over the money and share it equally, or you and your family will get it from all of us!" Threatened the leader of the mob, whom she recognised only by his nickname and the trademark snarl across his face - that's it, his nickname _is _The Snarl.

"Hey, you think this is funny, don't you?" Retorted Lena as she held onto the cheque, stuck right in the midst of Trinity Street. "I spent a whole day earning my money, and now that I've earned a fair amount to live decently with my family, you expect me to go back to square one?"  
"We're West Berksley people," remarked the ultra-tan-skinned Jody, a girl no more than Lena's age yet every bit of her a potential mobster. "Every bit of meso counts. We just want you to realise that!"  
"Realise that, my foot!" Spat Lena. "I know what you guys did to the Kumoya family when you guys heard that they also struck lottery. You are just plain selfish, the lot of you. Now bugger off!"  
"Just shut up and hand the cheque over!"  
"No way, over my dead body!"  
The Snarl did what he did best - snarl away. That didn't even hurt one bit, thought Lena. Then...  
"Guys, we'll kill her for the cheque! Charge!"

_I really shouldn't say that ever again,_ Lena had decided before making a run for it.

As Lena frantically escaped the poorly-thrown shurikens and weakly-stabbed daggers while braving the traffic, she was cornered by at least five, or six of Jody's mob. In desperation, she released some mana power from the tip of her fingers, and with one powerful swipe, lashed a **magic claw** spell out against the three opponents right before her, sending them sprawling backwards with a nasty, forceful scratch to their faces. They would have some lovely injuries to tend to in the morning.

The rest, however, were able to get very close to her before she could summon a fire storm spell that would surely have burnt her assailants bad. Forced to step back from the mob, she suddenly found herself terribly outnumbered nine-to-one on the last turn that would end Trinity Street. It was the classic dead-end, with a wall too high to scale and a mob too many to kill.

"Give it up, Lena! You're not going anywhere!" The Snarl, content with the play, came in for the kill.

"Says who the girl isn't going _anywhere_?"

A young man, no more than in his mid-teens and dressed in a magenta bandana, with a matching leather half-jacket, a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, popped out from right behind the snarling group, and with a stroke of his fingers, started searing their eyes with a concentrated beam of white, so much so that the mob had to shut the eyes down in utter agony.

"Come on, whoever you are, get outta there now, and fast!"

Lena felt her entire being pulled forward unwillingly, so she was unable to decide between being appreciative and being nasty. Once far away from the mob, the youngster quickly led Lena (equally young) in the direction of a really... long limousine, akin to those owned by rich people. The youngster casually flipped through whatever he had inside the limousine, then tossed a dress in Lena's way.

"Go to the back of the vehicle and get changed," he remarked. "No one will see you around there, including me!"  
"Wait, hold on a moment, why do I have to --" Lena began to protest, but was interjected by an even faster youngster.  
"If you wanna die, then by all means wear your old clothing! Butler, prepare the hairdresser and the stylists here pronto."  
"Will do, young master."

"What, wait, you, hold there a moment, I didn't even agree to this!"

Before Lena could protest any further, the eager-beaver stylists had arrived. Naturally, a makeover is in line.

***

_Thorough discomfort._ That summed up just about everything Lena thought about, although inside that young, innocent head of hers lay more than a million different thoughts as all the confusion threatened to overwhelm her. _Calm down, Lena, you're just lucky to have survived a mob,_ she breathed as she walked uneasily with the as-yet-unknown youngster down the street, to the main entrance of the bank that she could only have ever dreamed of.

The sliding glass doors opened smoothly, welcoming Lena and the youngster into a world of extravagances. In the bank, business was being made by the trillions of mesos through cups of overpriced coffee served from golden cups, and every other girl out there looked like a million. The bankers were especially charming people, with a fine, delicate balance served between servitude and beauty.

"Good evening, Mister Sanger," greeted the first bank assistant they came across as she greeted the youngster.  
"How may I be of service?"  
"Good evening, Stacy. Um, could you do some banking for this lady today, instead?"

Stacy glanced all over Lena, herself dressed up in a pretty white gown and given fresh, neat curls to her hair, and then stared at her bank book, and opened her mouth wide in genuine horror a split second before she covered it up. Lena was not sure what that gesture was for, but after a short while, she became aware that Stacy the banker was staring at - for a very long time - the very page that stated her residence address, which of course was none other than **33 Avram Street, West Berksley, Kerning City.**

_Again, she had thought, one of those who look down upon West Berksley people. _The discomfort from earlier suddenly reared its head and magnified itself a hundred times, causing Lena to feel sick deep from within.

"Stacy? What's the delay? Surely a few moments of--"  
"OK, sir, I'll be right on it. There. Done already," she said, in a celebratory tone, almost as if she was _jubilant _in sending away a West Berksley folk.

Lena snagged her own bank book from the lady curtly, and pretended she was going to hiss at the banker hussy by showing her teeth. In the end, though, she didn't.

She was too tired to bother, either, from feeling so utterly sick.

***

"Hey, there you go... back to your old self," declared the youngster, almost proudly, as he walked Lena down to the same part of Trinity Street where she was rescued, barely three hours ago. The night sky was particularly soothing (or cold, depending on one's constitution) with the cool gusts of spring winds blowing repeatedly against flags hung up on the road lamp-posts bearing the embelm of the Maple World Government, causing a rather disturbing flapping noise.

_Almost as if the people from earlier were hissing at me_, Lena imagined, a moment before she shook that thought out of her system. No one would be chasing her anytime too soon since she'd just had her golden hair curled up, now carrying a look a million mesos away from her unusual, natural rebonding.

"I'm wondering about something," Lena blurted out all of a sudden as she was about to walk up the bridge. "Why did you help me when you knew I came from a West Berksley--"

"Inane stuff," declared the boy. "I am not in the least bothered, much less to know where people come from. If any people of my profession cared about that, they would've already failed a long time ago."

Lena stopped and stared really hard at the youngster. "Don't mind me, but you don't look like you're a professional to me."  
"Oh, really?"  
"Not that I would know what profession you are, given that you're wearing like anyone now."

"Oh, am I? That was something I wasn't aware of, though," Darren replied, then suddenly his face turned in a wide horror Lena knew nothing of.  
"Oh, no, I totally forgot!"  
"Huh?"  
"I need to go to Shih Lin, _pronto_! Damned! Butler, you there? Get the limousine down here now!"

"We might meet next time, then, it would seem," giggled Lena as she watched the youngster panic and rush towards the cross-junction. In less than fifteen seconds, the extra-long limousine emerged from the other bend and swiftly raced towards the youngster.

As the youngster rushed his way into the vehicle, Lena suddenly called out to him from where she was, just before the youngster was about to depart.

"Hey, you! What is your name?"

The youngster heard her call for him, and replied in similar fashion from within the extra-long limousine before it sped off from the cross-junction that marked the middle of Trinity Street.

"My name? It's Darren, Darren Sanger!"

Darren Sanger, eh, thought Lena wistfully. "I'm sure I heard that name somewhere before..."

"I'll see you around, then, if we're meant to! Butler, we're going to Shih Lin next. On the double, move!"

Lena waved Darren goodbye as the vehicle boomed past her, slowly walking across the overhead bridge to the other side of Trinity Street, thinking of everything else but the money; the winds slowly caressed against her red one-piece dress, one that has long faded to a dark pink and growing too short for her after years of use and re-use.

And then she found a hooded someone waiting for her at the other side of the bridge, impatiently tapping his foot.

"Look at da goddamned time now, wouldja, Lena?"

***

"...Young master, don't mind me mentioning, but we're already three hours late--"  
"Be quiet for once, will you? Anything wrong to help a damsel in distress?"  
"Sorry, young master."

"...Lena, eh?" For some reason, Darren just kept grinning to himself as the vehicle rumbled ever so slightly along the long roads of the dark city. "Interesting person, I'd say!"

"Don't you say that every time, young master--"  
"**BUTLER**, what did I just say?!"  
"...excuse me, young master."  
"You're excused," was Darren's sharp-as-daggers reply. "Now, while we speed up there, could you bring up info on the corvette we just produced? I'm going to need it pretty soon."

"Young master, you're not thinking of the governmental project now, are you?"  
"Butler, I am so not going to excuse you if you wouldn't shut up now."  
"...Excuse me, young master."  
"You're excused, for the last time. Also, bring up the information that we got from R&D on the prototype beam rifle."  
"But aren't those -- *COUGH!*"  
"Excuse me?"  
"After you, young master. *COUGH!*"

***

Everything the Bloody Amaryllis has been doing for the whole of last winter finally has a crystal clear objective to it. Pity, I didn't understand until much later, so here we are running circles around the subject. The device rang once again, and it was not too difficult to conclude that the woman is calling again.

"So you know everything, head to toe now?"  
"Crystal clear," I answered. "It seemed stupid, too, but the plan beneath is unbelievably deceptive. Imagine the kind of damage that sort of thing can do, huh, woman?"  
"Luckily, we aren't too far removed from the person behind the whole thing. At least we know this is going on right now."  
"Yea, and we're going to have to move in soon to stop all of it, but... well, you know, I'm this one big problem here. If I go in, there's bound to be trouble."  
"I think you know clearly that without your involvement, our whole engineering could go to pieces. So I think you're actually better positioned to clear up the danger than anyone else."  
"Are you absolutely sure, woman?"  
"Yes I am. I'm going to link you up to the next ferry that goes there."  
"Roger that."  
"Oh, and remember..."  
"We never had this conversation, right?"  
"...goodbye."

Going to a new island, huh? "Jerry, activate geographer mode, jack into the satellite we used earlier, and scan the island at coordinates exactly 40km south of Florina Island. Please identify potential **ground zero** zones, production facilities, defense mechanisms."

"Yes, sir, activating geographer mode type four - military scanning activated."

"Alright, then, Jerry. Inform me when you're on standby state. Now, to fabricate a personal history..."

***

"...Good evening, Captain Bai She, here is your clearance four pass."  
"Thank you, Sergeant," I had remarked without trying to look at her, not even through the shades I had been wearing. Humans have a strange way of identifying people years later even if that person had worn anything that could've hidden his eyes. Any form of eye contact is almost going to be deadly, because sooner or later someone is bound to discover that "Captain Bai She" is not an attachment understudy officer from the Henesys-Ellinia Border Node intel unit. This ferry, while not exactly the fastest that the woman could have linked me up to - about half a day later than the civilian ferry that moved off - this was the most convenient in uplinking to more significant intel that the military could be in possession of, even though the risk I am taking is pretty huge.

"Evening, sir!"  
"Evening, soldier, carry on please," I replied, feeling myself move faster and faster in order to avoid contact with too many soldiers. Finally, after a fast round of brisk walking, I managed to duck into a rather deserted part of the ferry - to be exact, it was a transport corvette with a mobile helipad - and from there I begun a fresh round of intel-gathering.

"Uplinking with military satellite and intelligence... I.C. module active."

I.C. refers to the Informations Chamber, dubbed by most as the so-called Internet version four, including the versions that was active back during the days of the Old World. The military I.C., however, is actually more in-depth in terms of the amount of information it has compared to the civilian-access I.C.; not surprising since it belonged to Victoria's only legimate military force. _Legimate_... hur?

"Sometimes I can be taken in by all the foolish propaganda myself," I muttered to myself under my breath.

"Whose propaganda are you talking about, "Captain" Shiba?"  
_Did the woman behind me just called me Shiba?!_ Instinctively I took up the handgun attached to my waist and clicked to semi-auto. The lady right behind me, the redhead bowl-cut, the distinctive pheonix irises... It was _that woman_.

"My, my, what a rash personality, Shiba... oops, sorry, I mean, "Captain" Bai She..."  
"Woman, don't scare me like this! At least have the courtesy to call me by the pseudonym I'm taking!"  
"Aww, ain't the spy cute..."  
"No jokes. We agreed on this when I agreed to help you." It was at this point that I realised that my right arm was still up, handgun cocked with a single round. _No point tiring my own arm_, I'd decided, so I flicked the handgun's catch back to safe.

"Fine then, you humorless snake," she snubbed, trying a rather weak pun on my pseudonym. "This corvette arrives on the island at the same time as the civilian ferry service. I'll de-register your name from the corvette once you reach the LST-based port, so you can stop shifting about when you're there. Other than that, I can't help you. You're really on your own now."  
"Whatever you say, woman."

I decided to get back to work quickly to settle my tensed-up nerves from the shock I was given. Even though it was definitely considerably mild compared to the real electric shock I'd received in the past, it still felt like static on the ends of my hair nonetheless. Then, as I noticed the woman still staring intently at me while the announcement across the corvette signalled for sixty seconds before departure, I had to question the woman.

"Why are you here, woman? Shouldn't you go back to managing the I.C. system?"  
"...I still find you cute, is all. OK, then, I'll see you in three month's time."  
"I won't miss you," was my dry reply.  
"I won't, either, but it'll be bad to lose an ally like you. We don't number more than three of us."  
"I can keep myself alive, but no amount of teleportation magic will help you if you don't get off the corvette now--"

The woman left the room in the blink of an eye, before I could say more. Suits me fine. Now it's time for work... as Captain Bai She.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 2: Of a better life

**Spring Chapter 2: What's wrong about a better life?**

It was a pretty bright March morning in the Kerning City region, but it was said that nowhere inside the city was as bright in the morning as the region known to the administration as Jordania Villa, but to the citizenry as "Fifty Miles" for the distinction of being the district at the fifty-mile mark of the city's first expressway, the Seaside Express. The fact that Jordania Villa was located furthest away from sea level should be enough to explain everything, if not for some of the more ridiculous urban legends – mostly involving ghosts and deathly apparitions - having to get in the way of just about everything. Nonetheless, to Adamu Fuitami, Jordania Villa has a very important place in his heart.

"It's this place I call home... nuh-uh!" Declared the energetic, brown-haired youth as he stretched his back to meet the warm glow of the sun. "Along with the rest I call my friends. Come on, Karen, and get Jason and Terry along too."  
"Stop acting like you owned this place, stupid Adamu," growled the brown-skinned redhead as she hollered for the boys. "Y'boys, move faster already!"

"We're moving, we're moving!" Jason yelled back impatiently,"but it's not like we're you, Karen! We're carrying _all _of _our _damned camping equipment up 'em here steps, alright?"  
He jabbed his right thumb towards the haversack he was carrying, the strong gusts of winds rendering his hair unkempt and messy, as his medium-built body frantically fought against the hill and gravity itself.  
The other boy, Terry, was having a harder time than Jason, his bone-thin build and thick glasses suggesting a more sedentary disposition than the rough tumbles of camping trips.

"You're just goldarn weak," scolded Karen as she decided to lug some of the stuff Terry wasn't able to. Before long, she screamed in shock, having come close to falling down the staircase from merely attempting to carry a huge, bulging bag of canned food.

"Here we go," Adamu blurted out, leaping very far down to a flat intermediate platform where Karen and Terry was. "Let me carry the bag for you."

By "_carrying_", he had other intentions from Jason, who was languishing on the final steps of the staircase. Instead, he prepared small bursts of concentrated energy in his feet, then used the extraordinary strength derived from that to "flash-jump", a jump much more potent and powerful than a normal one. With expert ease, he made use of the smaller "steps" on the cliff that led to their intended campsite and lifted a camera stand all the way up. As though to tease the teenagers, Adamu then leapt down all the way again to meet Karen and Terry, still struggling with the remainder of the stuff to carry.

"Adamu, if you're going to make fun of us like this ever again, we're so not coming here ever!"  
"Yea, show-off!"

Adamu snickered. "Since when have the two of you, Karen and Jason... ever agreed on anything at all?"

That got the duo panicking in two different places.  
"What? No, no, no... what are you talking about, Adamu?!"  
"No way, dude, what do you mean, I agreed anything between that girl and me?!"  
"Hey, what did you mean by 'that girl', you bum?"  
"Who are you calling a bum, girl?!"

Adamu sighed off, but it was one of a happy tune and jingle to it. It was just like any other day in the Waywards' party, with a jovial mood surrounding the quartet.

***

"Good morning, Sir! Good morning, Madam!"  
"At ease, Sergeant," was a crisp reply from the male officer. "What's the status on The Island now?"  
"Not very good, sir. We've lost contact with all the fire teams from 430th Infantry's Bravo Battalion yesterday."  
"Bravo Battalion, you say? Please uplink their fire movement charts on the screen now."  
"Will do, sir."

Rear-Admiral Oodama Akitsuki tried to breathe in as low a tone as possible. Any sudden breathing from the tawny-haired, bespectacled forty-something would definitely set the Sergeant off on a panic attack, so he had to be careful. _Human management_, he was told. _Painfully meticulous work it must have been for the Chief of Army, then._

"Aki, what do you make of it?"

The lady who spoke, Rear-Admiral Inoue Kaori, his colleague of over ten years, displayed a face of impatience with her brows creased and crumpled. "We must've lost all of the men, you know."  
"There's still a chance they're just being radio-jammed," reasoned Akitsuki. "If they knew their radio was jammed, they'll wait for uplinks again."  
"You really think so, Aki?"

Aki walked over to Kaori's side, and whispered into her ears.  
"OK, now, a survivor from The Island is bad enough. Don't make it worse."  
"Fine, fine, whatever you say -- oh, here's their fire movement chart. Sergeant?"  
"Yes, Madam...?"  
"Could you explain to me the scenario now? _Calmly, please._"

The Sergeant, as ordered, _calmly_ took to the stylus with a slight tremble to the hands, and scribbled onto the projector directly. "Here, Madam, from the south of our L.S.T., we have discovered a compound which could be a hostile mining facility."  
"What are the indicators of a production facility, and have you ascertained their presence?"

"The indicators of production are waste metal, unusual noises, and polluted rivers. The first was a mess of machinery discovered by Fire Team Three yesterday, at 1501 hours, here," the Sergeant explained, pointing to a spot close to a river.  
"The second indicator was recorded by Fire Team Five at approximately 1640 hours, in the same location as Fire Team Three and approximately some two kilometers away from the source of production, or mining. Fire Team One has collected a sample of river water down here-" as he stroked through a region that looked like a meander or a river, "- and field tests at approximately 1827 hours indicate four thousand percent more of chlorine than purified drinking water."

Akitsuki looked closely at Kaori's positive facial features, and the female Admiral began to notice her colleague's stare when the Sergeant ended his explanation.  
"What was that stare for? Haven't you seen enough of me all these years?"  
"Looks like your method worked," grinned Akitsuki. "The programme we devised for on-the-field production detecting, remember?"  
"I was at your conference four years ago when you spoke on the subject, Madam," declared the Sergeant proudly.  
"OK, _thank you very much_, but let's get back to the job on hand. Aki, you should stop influencing your men to interject others in this manner, especially towards superiors!"  
"Ha ha... I'm really sorry for that, it wasn't intended."  
"Fine then. Anyway... What was the reason for your aggressive movement towards the facility?"  
"We did not intend to move towards the facility, Madam. Fire Teams Five and Six were discovered by hostile scout dogs at around 1922 hours, and our Commanding Officer's orders were to retreat. However, by 2010 hours we discovered on our own that we were moving more west from our original positions than earlier, and our C.O. decided to deploy us some five klicks away from the facility, over here."

Kaori stared at Akitsuki really hard. "Akitsuki, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"  
"Yes, the sudden-strike manouevre, Kaori... I can't believe an officer would have the idiotcy to follow this plan at all."  
"That's because it worked back then, remember? Over ten years ago?"  
"That's because we were _younger_, Kaori!"  
"And we're not young enough _now_?"  
"Whatever, Kaori. Then again, Kaori, I now tend to agree with you on what you just said earlier."  
Kaori narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Akitsuki. "Didn't you say something about a radio-jam?"  
"That can happen, but the chances of the Fire Teams surviving are looking really bleak. Sergeant, I think you know that yourself, no?"  
"I hope it wasn't true, sir," was the short, stark reply. "I'd go crazy if I allowed myself to think that this nightmare is reality, sir."

Akitsuki took a deep breath. "Fine then, Sergeant. You're dismissed for now. Guys, get him a hot choc and make him feel welcome."  
"Aye aye, sir," was the rather unsettling, girlish reply from one of the more manly-looking shipmates, muscles and girth all jam-packed in a tinny voice. "Come on, landlubber, we got some grub for ya."

As the Sergeant left the room on the brink of tears (for one reason... or the unmentionable other), Akitsuki looked at Kaori knowingly, then shook his head in exasperation.  
"We're missing flower-boy's expertise here," Akitsuki blurted out. "He'd know what the hell is going on down here."  
"We're going to have to depend on ourselves now, Aki..."

Kaori, in her frustration, slammed her right fist on the table pretty hard, and, given that the table was not made from wood of the oak variety, the entire table collapsed in a rather dramatic fashion, splitting first in half right through the middle and then collapsing from every other end. The end result was a wreck, so to speak.

"I mean, well... DAMNED, I wished he were here, too..."  
Kaori looked upon the table, and winced internally as she saw another cut off her pay.  
"...point taken," was Akitsuki's short reply.

***

"Ain't the stars pretty from out here, people?"  
"Whoa... Fantastic!"

The night sky was a dazzling display of stars, dressing up the skies much more than what they could see from the dinky old blocks in the city. Every constellation that had been there for the past aeon was there for the quartet to look at, in all of their magnificent glory and sparkle. It was as though the night sky had decided to use sparkling spray on a black piece of paper in order to produce such a pretty sight.

"Adamu, you're actually into astronomy stuff?"  
"No, not really..." replied the brown-haired youth. "It just brings back memories of my father. We used to be able to sit and talk here, and talk about his work, and my work, and our family..."

A slight hint of sadness flashed across his face, but he quickly shook himself out and, soon, was back to his usual goofy self.

"Now, you guys, I'm taking you out here so you guys can get something of an inspiration, or a relaxation thing that I didn't remember nuts about. Tomorrow's _the _Big One, so do your best. Tonight, though, let's just goof out."  
"Right on. All that preparation from Miss Junko was a bit strenuous," grumbled Jason. "She makes us go all sorts of notes, gosh. We are going for an impromptu rap battle competition, not a choir showdown..."  
"She knows what she's doing, for sure," reassured Adamu. "Just some trust in that lady, shall we? And... she's pretty cute, too. Nicest dimples I've seen."

"Which one comes first, trusting her or thinking she's cute?" As always, Karen's questions were short and sharp.  
"Ooh, that hurt," joked Adamu as he faked a heart attack. "Well, both, I'd say! Serious-- what the hell?"

A phone call, a most inopportune one at that, broke up the quartet's banter in a rather clumsy manner.

"Gosh, why do they _always_ have to do this to me," growled Adamu. "This is Fuitami speaking, who's this? ...what? Whoa, calm down, Junko_-san_... Calmly now... tell me what's going on..."  
"Miss Junko is in trouble?! What the hell happened?!" Karen tugged at Adamu's shirt furiously, anxious to know what was going on.

"What the...? Not the jockers again! Just what the hell is wrong with that Sanger kid?! Kids, we're packing up. _Pronto._"  
"Aww, man, Adamu dude, we're just having fun countin' the stars..." whined Jason. "Right, Terry?"  
"No time for that no more," declared Adamu. "The Big One's postponed, for sure. The jockers jacked the electricity generator on the school compound over the limit, and there's a fire going on there now. I'm going back to help get some of the other students out."  
"We'll help, too!"  
"No, it's too dangerous," was Adamu's hurried reply. "Just pack up everything and put them all in the bags. Leave the sleeping bags outside in case I can't come back in two hours' time. Move closer to the wet weather sheds in case it rains. Karen, I'm counting on you to take care of the two boys."  
"Hey, who needs that bossy girl to take care of us?!" Jason retorted. "We can manage fine, dude!"  
"Whatever it is, I've no time for your sweet nothings. See you guys in two hours, okay?"

Adamu quickly scaled down the staircases with his flash-jumping, and in less than ten seconds he had already reached the bottom of the hill they were on, as though it was something he did every day.

"...There goes the man," sighed Karen. "Now I'm alone and stuck with the both of ya."  
"Cheer up, Karen," Terry blurted out in a rare streak of speech. "Here are my poker cards."  
"...Wanna play bridge?" Karen waved the poker cards at Jason in a teasing manner. Amongst the four, she was the best at the game.  
"Fine, bridge it is! You'll lose to me for sure!"  
That, despite having lost one too many times on the game. Then again, Jason's bravery has got to be given credit for, no?

***

Where Adamu had rushed off to was the scene of a really huge blaze that engulfed the school his Wayward gang were studying in. Junko was inconsolable as she wept away in the arms of another man Adamu assumed to be her fiance.

"Junko-san, what is going on now?"  
"The... some of the students are still in them - _Jared, let go of me, I want to go in I want to go in I want to go in!_"  
"Junko, no! Don't, please, stop panicking on me, Junko, you're scaring me!"  
"But those are students! _My_ students! I can't watch them _die _on me! Jared, let me go, you sonofa--"  
"I'll go, Junko-san," interjected Adamu. "I'll go save them."  
"Don't you go crazy too, sir," replied a shocked Jared. "The fire in there is too big!"  
"I have to try. I _am _a member of the Jordania Vigilante. How many are still in there, Junko?"  
"Six.."

Before either Junko or Jared could stop the kid, Adamu leapt off in the direction of the fire.

***

"Nice try, Mister Sanger," remarked one of a motley gang crowding somewhere outside of school as they watched the fire burn, helpless. Not that the gang would have even lifted a finger.  
"Whoa, Dare-dude, you the man! Now you literally _blew_ the place up with that guitar of yours!"  
"Says who I _blew_ up the school?" Remarked the daredevil in question, a kid with a hair of black, blue and gold, with a matching three-piece consisting of a white undershirt, a blue collared T-shirt and a jet black leather jacket.  
"It's not my fault, dude, I swear to God it isn't. The school's electrical system is weak! It can't run my guitar without exploding to bits!"  
"Either way, you caused the fire, Dare-dude! Way to go, now we have no education for nuts!"  
"Aww, who needs education?" Snickered the daredevil. "All you need is to learn how ta fight against wussies, like this!"

With one solid, hard punch, he shoved his fist unkindly into the face of the second person who spoke about blowing up the place. The jock, despite being a muscled jock one-and-a-half times that of the daredevil, had his two front teeth smashed as he flew back some distance away, knocked unconscious.

"Sometimes, assholes need ta learn how to fucking shut up," cursed the daredevil. "Let's watch the fire. We don't wanna be suspected of nothing. Remember, nothing happened."  
"Yea, yea, Sanger-boy, we got you."

***

_Hot and choking. _Those were the first two words that struck Adamu when he rushed headlong into the compound. Someone had thrown him a couple of wet towels before he went through the school gates, almost as if they were expecting a firefighting hero to emerge from this. Covering his nose, he yelled at the top of his voice, at the risk of smoke inhalation.

"Hello? Is there anyone in there? Hello!"

Adamu tried the signage for any form of help. Junko was a personal friend of his whom he met, when Adamu turned up at one of Terry's Parent-Teacher Appointments as his legal guardian, and so Adamu was quite aware of Junko's work as both a teacher and a musical talent.

_If she's here late at this hour, it must have something to do with singing and compositing. Maybe I should try the dance and choir rooms,_ he reasoned with himself as his eyes teared up and reddened from all the smoke. Somehow, he managed to find a room named just like that, some thirty meters from the door he entered the school building from.

"Anybody in there?" He yelled once more. This time, it wasn't met by mere echoes.

"Over here! Help us!"

Though his vision was badly interrupted by the smoke, he could make out the tables and a part of the building that had collapsed as a result of the burning fire. _They must've been trapped in there,_ reasoned Adamu once more as he shoved the debris and mess of tables blocking his way with his bare hands. Both palms burned by the hot metal, Adamu was quite relieved to find the kids at the end of it all, cowering under the tables for temporary protection.

"Help us," spoke one of the boys weakly. "I'm... tired..."  
"Hang in tight, kid," Adamu replied hurriedly while clearing his nasals of smoke and any other soot. "Here, breath into the towel. You won't feel so sick and tired. You guys, are you all right? How many of you are here?"  
"We... we have six of us," replied a little blonde, her face and hair dirtied by all the soot but otherwise uninjured.  
"But the Nairako brothers..."

The girl pointed in that direction, choked by the smoke as she wheezed away in agony. The Nairako brothers, of whom Adamu noticed their eyes the most even from a distance, were clearly terrified by the entire episode, and as it seemed, both were injured and immobilised in place.

_My god, what the hell?  
_"Two more kids... over there, behind the teacher's desk--" Adamu pointed out hurriedly, almost about to rush to the rescue. Almost.  
"Big Brother, watch out! From above!"  
"What in the--"

The wood-concrete mix collapsed from all the burning, and its contents mercilessly smashed into the teacher's desk and everywhere close to Adamu and the rest of the students.

"Oh shit!Notthe desk!!!"  
"We have to _hurry_, Big Brother!" Urged the other students, clearly panicking. "The whole place is about to collapse!"  
"Argh!" Adamu had wanted to kick himself, but it won't help things for now. "Kids, grab me on the arm!"

They duly did so, and, as fast as his dragged-down feet could, Adamu made haste for the exit as more and more of the classroom collapsed from right behind them, the burning fire still seething at their every orifice. Braving the smoke, Adamu signalled for the wall and backed them up, and soon they were collectively crawling out of the burning school building with towel in hand.

"We can make it! Faster! Come on, come on! Argh!!!"

With a final push, Adamu shoved the kids with his burnt palms, every inch of him screaming out in pain. Jared and Junko, waiting anxiously at the front door, found him collapsed and unconscious at the last step as he ran out of steam, and rushed in to pull the brunet out of danger.

"Get him outta here!" Jared shouted as the firefighters and their fire engines finally meandered their way to the burning school. The professionals heaved him to safety, and, as it turned out, just oh-so-timely. In less than a minute afterwards, the front of the school building collapsed into a pile of sad burning cinders.

***

"...He's awake now," breathed a relieved Junko. "Adamu, are you all right?"  
_I couldn't save the twins.  
_"_..._are you all right, Adamu?"  
I_t was all that jocker's fault._  
"Doctor, please come over here..."

Adamu _never felt better_, he'd decided with himself. _If the jockers didn't start the fire with their stupid antics, none of this would've happened. It definitely wasn't Junko's fault, nor the students._

"...Where... is that Sanger kid?"  
"The Sanger... you mean _him_?"  
"I asked: WHERE IS THE SANGER KID???!"

From a short distance away from the medical personnel, the jockers were still idling around as the other teachers trickled into the school compound trying to handle the massive mess of administration. The daredevil was whistling away, almost as if he was trying to sing a tune with the flames emanating from with the burning building, when he heard the outburst from Adamu.

"What the hell was that for, dude?" He asked, challenging Adamu as he teasingly flicked a finger towards the brunet. "Wanna pick a fight with me--"

Before he could respond in time, Adamu, his eyes reddened now by something that wasn't due to the smoke, landed a hard punch on the Sanger's stomach region, forcing him to keel away in pain as Adamu was restricted by some four other guys from his posse.

"What the fuck is this, a punch to the stomach?!"  
_"Go to hell, you killer!"_

The daredevil took it as his cue to run, and made haste for a motorbike parked nearby.  
"All you need in the world is just one friggin' key," he remarked, plugging what seemed to be a one-size-fits-all key into the motorbike's slot. Whirring the bike into life, the daredevil managed to scrape out of danger just before the brunet managed to slash him with a recently-broken glass bottle.

"That was close," he breathed, heavy on the rhythm as he tried to regain his composure at a red light junction some one kilometer away from the school. As it turned out, it was a really bad call.

"Roar!" Went the utterly enraged Adamu, his entire body leaping into the night sky, using the same flash-jumping from earlier, only now, instead of climbing rock walls, he was using it to _leap_ from building to building.

"What the hell? This guy is plain starkin' mad!" Quivered the daredevil, eyes wide open in abject horror, for once finally displaying signs of weakness. "W-What the hell is wrong with him?!"

The daredevil gripped tight on the stolen bike, and beat the red lights a second before it turned green, narrowly missing a sedan emerging from the left of the adjacent road as the motorist within blared his horn in anger. Thinking that pedestrians would do well as his _cover_, he utilised a "ramp" that was actually just an escalated wooden platform, and leapt into the midst of midnight pedestrians who were in various states of drunkenness.

"That was a good kick from that vod-- _Watch out, a motorbike!_"  
"What in the name of Victoria-- _whoa_!!!"

The loud whirring of the desperate motorbike was only slightly louder than the beastly cries of the enraged flash-jumping brunet. Talk about being _hopping_ mad.

***

At the same time, the person waiting for Lena was quite mad, too, but his was more of concern. Lena's a special issue with him, and if she gets into trouble, he would trouble the hell out of himself to get Lena out of her own mess. The chase from earlier left him with another massive headache to deal with, so he has got no choice but to deal an equal amount of nagging to the very innocent young mage.

"Lena, what the hell was that for? You got yourself in trouble with those guys again?!"  
"I..."  
"D'you know how hard it was for me to get you off The Snarl's list the other time around, yo?"  
"I... I am sorry... But I swear it wasn't my fault!"  
"_Fuck_ it, yo, I know The Snarl had always got problems with _everybody_. Forget it, girl."

The man, revealed by a dim street light to be a thoroughly dark-skinned person with a loud black head full of curls freshly permed, grabbed Lena by the wrist and took a good look. He grimaced in mock pain upon seeing the damage wrought by The Snarl's cronies on her wrists.

"Gosh, The Snarl's two other kids have a really brute way of hurting girls, those wankers. This is gonna hurt for a bit, so bear with it."

Lena winced as the man pressed hard against her right wrist, treating the blue-black marks on it with a hard massage. Her involuntary groaning was not without its reason, as the pain was massive to deal with on the touch.

"Hey, you guys _downstairs_, go somewhere else if ya are doing your business!" Shouted an irate female voice from above, irritated by the loud groaning from Lena.  
"Shut up, _bitch_," yelled the man.  
"Jon, forget it... let's leave this to another time."  
"You very sure you're okay with this pain, Lena? It hurts like a bitch if you're gonna sleep with it--"  
"As it is now, you're already making me hurt so much I'm disturbin' someone _else_!"  
"Fine, fine, Lena Kotsworth, _you win_. Oh yea, guess what?"  
"Yea?"  
"I've finally stashed enough to make my move to Henesys. I'm thinking of bringing your family along and out of this mess."  
"Oh really? You have the money--"  
"_Shh, _not so loud mate!"  
"Whoops, sorry... But wow, seriously, Jon, that's not easy at all..."

"SAVE ME!!!"

The plea for help literally ripped through the now-quiet, sleeping neighbourhood, along with the loud keening of a motorbike in the distance.

"What the hell was that for, Lena?" Went a startled Jon as his head swung in the direction of the plea.  
"I... I don't know. Let's go that way, the sound seems to be from there."

The pair ran out from the side alley into Trinity Street, where all they could see from a distance was a motorbike and an odd, flickering shadow near it. As the two items got closer and closer, it was revealed to be a youth in a motorbike being chased by a...

"A _'flyer_? What the hell?!" Gasped Jon in shock. "One of them friggin' flash-jumpin' flyers?!"  
"What the... Darren?!"

"Somebody, _anybody_... Save me from this mad dawg! He's gonna kill me!"

_Darren just saved me earlier on. Now that he's in trouble, how can I not help?!_

"I'm going to claw the shadow down, Jon. Stay away!"  
"Whoa, I'm outta here! Careful with that wrist, girl! I don't wanna mess with no stinkin' magic claw or a bad wrist first thing tomorrow morning!"  
"Don't worry, I won't break my wrist, you doofus!"

Lena prepared her hands with energy as the motorbike zoomed past her, raking her faded dress up in multiple directions. She willed herself to stay focused as the shadow drew closer.

The moment it went past her, Lena quickly and unhesitatingly slashed her hands in the direction of the shadow. Struck by the potent magic claw's ultramarine-tinted energies, the shadow yelped in pain as it crashed down onto the asphalt, narrowly missing the bridge that linked the East and West of Berksley as it fell from high up and started rolling down the street until it came to a halt.

"That was a crash landing if I ever saw one," quipped Jon as he emerged from the alley they came from, safely tucked away from the power of the magic claw.

"Let's check up on that person now, Jon."  
"Agreed, Lena. _And_ mug him while we're on it."  
"Jon!"

Lena ran for the figure that wasn't really moving. just shaking uncontrollably on the dark asphalt of Trinity Street. So much for trinity, she thought before running a visual check on the brunet.

"He must've been mad trying to get to the motorbike in this flyin' manner," declared Jon as he swiped the wallet off Adamu's body. "Oh, freakin' hell no!"  
"...What's wrong, Jon?"  
"Oh, my effing god... you just struck down a member of the _Jordania vigilante_!"  
"WHAT? Hey, Jon, this is no freakin' joking matter!"  
"I'm not kidding, Lena! Look at the badge in his wallet!"

Lena snatched the inappropriately appropriated wallet from Jon, and, upon seeing the maple leaf logo that accompanied the side of the vigilante's insignia, she was utterly silent, holding her mouth in involutarily as she stared at the unconscious Adamu, feeling mixed all over.

"...shit."

"Jon, relax now, there's a way to fix Lena out of this... out of this... outta this... I GOT IT!"  
"What?"  
"_Get away_. From here. Go to this place and call on this guy here Alexander, on Telling Street. He will link you up to a few routes of escape. Go _now_!"  
"But my family, my kid brother--"  
"Just go, damned it! I'll take care of things for ya! Besides, remember, I'm getting outta here as well! I'll take Uncle and Aunty along as well!"  
"...Thanks, Jon..."  
"What the hell for, girl? You saved my life outside the drinkin' hole the last time around, so this is the way I'm gonna repay you. I won't rest until I'm done with my dues, alright girl?"

The sound of police sirens rang from beyond, prompting the pair to quickly get out of the area. Lena realised midway through that she had Adamu's wallet in hand, so she flung what she _thought_ was his wallet back, accidentally hitting a semi-conscious Adamu and waking him up.

"Quick, quick!"

And then, perhaps a tad too late, she realised that she still had Adamu's wallet in hand; the wallet she flung was her own.

***

"...What the hell... Ouch... who the hell me struck me with a damned magic claw..."  
It was ninety-nine levels of pain for the brunet, laying on the asphalt as the cool winds blew against him. He was bleeding, but thankfully it wasn't anything too serious despite the fall from a considerable height. He glanced at the bridge in the distance, thankful that nothing had hit the bridge during his abrupt descent, of which he is only scantily aware of due to his rage.

"That Darrel Sanger... I'll never forgive this bastard... Those two kids he killed, he'll fuckin' pay for it!"  
"Adamu!"

_Junko? Jared? _"What... why are the both of you here?" he asked, still lying on the floor due to the sheer amount of pain that coursed through him.  
"We were scared... We borrow the Principal's car and tailed you all the way from school after you chased that Darrel..."  
"I'm so not going to forgive this son of a bitch," cursed Adamu. "Ouch!"  
"Shoot, he's totally whacked. I'll call the ambulance--"  
"It's okay, dude, I'll walk to the hospital... ouch."  
"You're in no condition to even stand up, dude. I'm getting the ambulance."  
"I said I can -- ouch!"  
Ninety-nine levels of pain was more than the human body could withstand.  
"Damned you, Jared!"  
"Don't even move, this is a doctor's orders. Just stay quiet and shut up. Hey, whose wallet is this over here..."  
"Huh?"  
"...Lena Kotsworth... West Berksley._A fuckin' slummer_," he groaned in mock-agony. "Another one of the dirt-poor."  
"Jared, I'll be the one asking you to shut up now," groaned Adamu, clearly irritated. "What... kind of tone is that with your speaking about West Berksley?"  
"They stole _everything_ around town, then proceed to _waste_ it. Why should I care to respect them slummers?"  
"Jared..."

Before Junko's fiance knew it, Adam delivered him a roundhouse punch with what little is left inside him, surprising the blond doctor so much he staggered, lost his balance completely and crashed onto the asphalt floor. Once Adamu was done dishing out the punch, his world collapsed back in black, only thinking of any possible connections with _"Lena Kotsworth"_ in his subconscious.

***

Lena nervously walked up the apartment, more than anyone else at that moment, because it was common knowledge that the Snarl's posse was some two streets down Telling Street. That so many men were smoking their joints and lives away on the dinky, smelly steps was not helpful in calming her nerves, either. Thankfully, though, the smoke all but dulled the addicts' senses, and so they could only make out a tiny blur of Lena's features.

_Slowly does it, Lena_, she willed herself. _You did nothing wrong. You're just trying to get away from West Berksley._  
"Okay, here goes... very good evening to you, Mister Alexander."

"...Lena, is it?"  
"Yea, my name's Lena, how'd you know? Jon recommended you to me."  
"Ah, that's my good man," he chortled out as Lena shuffled around uncomfortably, irritated at the prospect of being a wanted figure now, albeit not her fault entirely. She was only all out to save Darren from trouble, though why he decided to scream his way down the street was still incomprehensible.  
"Ain'tcha timin' just right on target," chortled the plump man as he expertly ran his fingers through some of the papers on his desk. "I've got the perfect job for you... Actually, I was having trouble _finding_ for the perfect people in the first place."  
"A _job_?" Lena blurted, as the plump man handed her a file of sorts, coated with lots of dust.  
"Yea, you go work far away for a period of time, and I'm not joking when I say I'm gonna charge you a bit for this. It's not easy linking people to jobs, ya know." He then proceeded to take the file out of Lena's hands in a rather condescending manner, his eyebrows raised and his lips pouted.  
"...How much... exactly?" Lena asked, wary of Alexander's increasingly weird demeanour.  
"Not too much, I assure you... just twenty grand."

_Twenty grand! _"No friggin' way, Alexander, that's too much..."

"Well, I assume you want to get arrested, then? Most of the customers who come to me are trying to run from the 'fuzzies or from themselves."  
"Um... no... But there must be a better way than getting fleeced..."  
"Fleeced, you say! Now that's a harsh word to use, ya know. Besides, the one thing I didn't have the time to tell Jon about... might _interest_ you."  
"...What?" Lena blurted, her face now coated with a mixture of worry and irritation.  
"Y'know, it was simple. Snarlie came up to me and told me that if ever I were to see you, I'm gonna have to tell him where you are. He looked mighty pissed, and somewhat blinded too. Kept knocking into my furniture, _bang, bang_."  
"Ah... so you're gonna blackmail me?" Lena spat, flicking her ten fingers open as she charged all ten digits with mana power filled to the brim.  
"Since this place settles things with ultraviolence, I don't mind settling _this_ here issue... with my _magical_ fingers."  
"Whoa, whoa, there, careful lady," shuddered Alexander as he took a few involuntary steps back. "That thing there on yer fingers... is a _dangerous_ thing!"  
"Now you know how it feels like, don't you? Tell me how to get to this job!"  
"F...fine, you prissy little girl... I shouldn't have had Jon recommend such a firebrand to me--"  
"_Come again,_" she hissed, her fingers still glowing.  
"Aieee! Fine! Go to this lady, Madame Tussa, first thing tomorrow morning. You'll be going to work on a ship as a maid."

_What, a maid?_ It wasn't like she had many options to begin with, either, so Lena could do nothing much but take it.  
"Whatever, then... not like there's a better option now..."  
At this point of time, while Lena contemplated her fate, Alexander began fiddling with his device, dialling away. He was never as happy as he was when the call got through to The Snarl.

"Snarlie! Hey, let me tell ya somethin'! The girl's at my place now!"

_Oh, holy crap! _"Alexander!!! What the..."  
"I don't like being threatened into losin' my money. I'm worse than a woman scorned, I tell ya," he growled,  
"When I'm out of the woods, I'm going to come back for your blood, Alexander! I'll kill you for this!"

Lena made her way out of Alexander's dinky apartment, and abruptly swung her figure leftwards, perhaps just in time, to find The Snarl on the left end of the apartment's narrow corridor, and his cronies on the other.  
"Shit!"

"Little girlie, cough the fuckin' money out. Now."  
"Didn't I say it'll be over my dead body, asshole?!" Lena proceeded to pick up one of Alexander's torn shoes, and, with her fingers still not disenchanted yet, flung it in full force onto the Snarl. It hit the gangster with so much force that he was thrown off his feet high, and through a series of unfortunate trips onto the flower pots and the platforms behind him, he knocked hard onto the sharp-as-blades metal railings and started bleeding profusely. The rest of the motley gang, on seeing this extraordinary sight of violence, began to have a _lot_ of second thoughts as Lena brandished a broomstick before them.

"Out of my way," she hissed. "Out of my way if you don't want to get hurt."

Bit by bit, the gang retreated, giving her more and more leeway as she continued to stare at them fiercely and with intent to murder. With a sudden stroke, much to the surprise of the first few of the mob who was terrorised into retreating, she slammed her broomstick backwards, striking a smashed-bottle wielding, back-stabbing, rip-roaring Alexander by the direct underneath of his chin. The sheer momentum of the strike, the fragility of the metal railings and Alexander's own obesity all contribute to a violent end, as his body was thrown off the apartment building in the aftermath of Lena's strike.  
He wailed in anti-gravitational despair, as his entire cash-fat frame fell all the way through, ending abruptly with a bone-crunching, earth-shattering crash into a parked mini-bus on the ground floor, back first.

"I... I said... _out of my way_, didn't you hear?"

The mob was thoroughly terrified now at the sight of the unfortunate Alexander making a violent descent to ground floor. Finally, the mob yielded altogether, giving the lady the wide berth she demanded as they scrambled out in terror of her presence, with a jumble of fear and panic.

"_Thank you,_" she quipped, her eyebrows creased badly as she tried to hold her tears back. It wasn't the first time someone made her this mad, but deep within the tough exterior of a violent mage was a girl worried for the safety of her friends and relatives.  
Once she hit ground level, she started to run towards Trinity Street _again_, still in her faded skirt.  
_It was impossible to return home._

"I'm so sorry, Dad, Mum... _I'm so sorry_," she cried, her tears flowing freely from her cheeks as she ran in the direction of the Shih Lin district, ignoring a smiling Jon altogether as she sped past him in a panicked blur.

"What the hell just happened, girl? Yo!"

Thinking that Lena was just plain hurried or just much too hasty for her own good, the happy-go-lucky Jon went past a few blocks, down into Telling Street to meet up with Alexander over supper and was about to thank Alexander, when he saw a worried mob gathered around a wrecked mini-bus.

"...Oh... shit."  
Alexander, with glass bottle still in his somewhat firm grasp, and his mouth still bleeding from the gums, looked seriously injured - possibly dead, too.  
Hell I'm sure, that's Lena's work," gagged a horrified Jon, in between little hops and jumps that don't flatter his height much  
"Now her _posse_ is seriously gonna be in fer it..."  
Then his internal monologue stopped abruptly.  
"Wait, the thing is... _her_ posse is _my_ posse..."

The Snarl, emerging from a nearby apartment block with his head still bleeding badly from the hard scrape, gifted the afro-kid a very, very, _very_ cold snarl, the worst that he could muster ever since learning that his mother was an ex-prostitute. The snarl, though, didn't actually send shivers down Jon's spine more than what he _thought_ would follow that snarl. The mob from right behind The Snarl was clearly looking for someone to blame, and he was _it_.

"Oh, the fuckin' hell..."

***

A good distance away from the Trinity Street Bridge, Darrel was sitting his bum down and counting the stars while the bike he rode on was left toppled in the midst of the streets. He ran for his life in such a panicked manner, his breathing was constantly heavy for the past hour or so. Hiding in one corner on the East side, he raised his middle finger at the ambulance that carried Adamu to the hospital while wailing away in the light flashes of red and blue.

"Damned you for trying to hurt me, wanker!" He shouted, jubilant at his victory, albeit one that he obtained through a series of lucky circumstances. "I'll make sure you get sued by me at the end of this!"

While Darrel watched the ambulance speed off into the distance, the family limousine had turned the corner behind him, and Darren had already spotted him waving a rude gesture at something.

"Says who you're going to sue anybody? Dad won't approve of this, for sure," Darren spoke, winding his own window down.  
"Eh heh heh... Darren bro," blurted Darrel the daredevil with a weak smile, his presence before his sibling like a tramp against a businessman. "So sorry to trouble you for _this_ again."  
"Not as if this is the first time I had to bail my _elder_ brother out," snorted Darren, as he emerged from his vehicle. "You've caused deaths this time. I already told you before, with your utter immaturity and everything, you're going to cause somebody to die sooner or later. See?"  
"W-well, it's all the school electrical systems' fault, it wasn't me!"  
"We had a _friggin'_ huge underground system for you to play with at home! What is it with you that you've got to cause chaos in school, too?!"  
"I... I didn't know the electricity was so weak! I mean, well, it worked my guitar well! I wanted to rock the school with heavy metal!"  
"How old is that school now?"  
"Uh... twenty years?" Darrel squeaked weakly.  
"Wrong! It is well over forty years old! For god's sake, would you just search yourself and stop getting into trouble already?!"  
"Well..." Darrel was searching his head for some more excuses, but went blank on it. Then a little silhouette shimmered some junctions down the road, and Darrel desperately latched on to that as a final excuse.  
"Oh, look at that...!"

A young girl's silhouette ran across the now-empty Trinity Street, presumably hurried the way she blitzed across. Normally, the ten-lane street demarcated by a lane barrier right smack in the middle would have been better crossed using the bridge, but on this occasion the silhouette didn't even bother with the bridge, choosing to just leap right over the barrier.

"I think that was the girl who saved me just now from that madman, yea. She has some awesome power with da claw!"  
"What madman? What girl... wait, did you just mention a _girl_?"  
"Long story, bro. Anyway, she saved me, so I've got to - uhh, where the hell is she running off to in such a hurry?"

Darren noticed the silhouette had a very familiar air about her, especially on the hair where there were some curls... curls?

_Something's not right... isn't that Lena over there?! Those curls must be it!  
_"Butler, let's go. Now!"  
"To where, young master?"  
"After the girl! Follow her!"  
"Hey, Darren bro! Where are you going?!"  
"You stick your ass in, now! Before I leave you to feed the dogs!"

The limousine sped down the road, and turned at the junction where they saw _the girl _run past. Darren was pretty sure that the girl was Lena, and that she was in _trouble_. _But what kind of trouble can anybody get into at this ungodly hour?_

"Um, Darrel?"  
"Y...yea, bro?" Replied Darrel, fending off a slight chill.  
"Question: Who the hell did this girl you talked about, strike down just now?"  
"Uhh... let's see... it was a brown-haired madman if I ever saw one... umm... he's a member of the Jordania vigilante... THAT'S IT! His name is Adam _something_! Lunatic, I say, he's a looney through and through!" Responded Darrel animatedly, angry that he had had to run so far off to get out of trouble.

_Adamu Fuitami, wasn't it? Best vigilante in business that I keep hearing about, and when I last saw him he has this almost scout-like demeanour to his whole being. Obsessed about the whole vigilante thing, almost to a fault._

"If Adamu wants you for dead, you must've done it real big," groaned Darren, observing the streets slowly for any signs of oddity.  
"What me? What thing done real big? It was him, him, _him_! _Never me_!" Protested Darrel. "How could a fire cause him to go berserk on me like that--"  
"You killed _two_, or so Trevor from the vigilante told me. I hear Adamu's this really nice guy who doesn't always get violent, ya know. Your loose tongue again, bro?"  
"NO! Why is it always me? I'm the innocent one here, _dude_! Don'tcha trust your bro?"

Darren turned around and stared at him in a floaty manner, showing the whites on his eyes in a beleaguered manner.

"I _trust_ you, Darrel Sanger..."  
"Thank goodness you do..."  
"...as much as I _trust_ that the Bloody Amaryllis isn't doing _anything_ funny, and that they're co-existing with the Marines _very_ well."  
"What the hell are you babbling about again? What's this to do with them Bloody Amaryllis again?"

Darren reached for a pair of earphones from behind his seat, and covered his ears with the mellow pulse of a two-step techno track. Darrel's grumblings were still audible, but negligible enough to be ignored altogether. Right now, though, Darren's main concern wasn't about his brother's grumblings, more of Lena's appearance - or disappearance, depending on one's perspective, too. They covered several streets down as the limousine cruised down the road at speeds not exceeding ten miles an hour.

"Boring _head_ trip, dude! Stop looking for the girl already, man! Do you hear me? Hello?"

_Wait up a moment, _Darren told himself. _That's__ the guy Lena struck down with the claw?!__Where the hell could she be?! _Exclaimed Darren internally, his eyebrows creased to a knot as he tried his hardest to look for any signs of the young mage. _Kerning City is big, but it isn't that big!_

The limousine slowly trudged past some of the more recent blocks within the East Berksley area, and past a garbage dump that was relatively clean and new. When the limousine was gone from sight, all that was left inside the garbage dump was minimal trash. Inside of a relatively unused trash-can was Lena, whose unusually accurate sixth sense told her of somebody trying to look for her. In her haste she had nowhere else in mind for a hiding place, until she spotted the trash-can conveniently seated in a blind corner to the right of the street (and by extension, the Sangers' limousine).

She was initially relieved to be just out of Darren's line of sight, since he was only staring into the left of the streets and did not notice the existence of the trash can in the blind corner. However, as the limousine trudged by, she noticed somebody else inside the vehicle, apparently talking in a loud, rude manner with his saliva splattering everywhere.

"What the hell... _another_ Darren?!"

Then everything fell in place within Lena's heightened sensory, perception and recollective memory. "Darren Sanger", she remembered then, is one half of the Sanger brothers, the would-be heirs to the ultra-corporation, BlueWater Corp. The one she first met was, through and through, a good guy, with no airs about him and many talk of him being a devout priest of the Victorian Basilica. His older brother, Darrel, however, is a through and through wastrel, who thinks nothing more of money as a convenient source of enjoyment and entertainment. Their faces are alike, but Lena could tell straight away, based on mere intuition (albeit one that is accurate), that she saved the _wastrel_ instead of a _goody-two-shoes._

At this point of time, Darrel noticed suddenly, from the dimmer lighting at the back of the limousine, that somebody was hiding in one of the bins at a really tricky dark corner. He couldn't really make out who it was, but the fact that the person from inside the bin was staring so intently at the vehicle made him quite cock-sure of his guess. When it hit him that the person inside the bin was whom Darren might have been looking for all these while, it just struck him as so unbelievably funny that he started to roll in the back of the limousine from laughter.

"...Oh, god, forgive me... I saved the _wrong_ person," she cried to herself from inside the rubbish bin, tears flowing down from her wrecked, dirtied features. "I can't believe I did so much wrong in twelve hours..."

Meanwhile, back in the limousine, the search grew weary on Darren as he continued rubbing his eyes and glared hard to the _left _of the streets, still unaware of the fact that Lena was on the other side. Darrel, being aware of the whole saga unfolding before him, was unable to stop laughing, and was giggling away loudly like a hyena let loose.

"...She wouldn't be hiding in one of these here bins, don'tcha think..." Darren told himself resignedly, on the brink of giving up the search.  
"_Ah ha ha..._ yea, right on, _brudda_," as Darrel continued to snickered really loudly, in a manner that Darren hardly noticed due to the earphones and Darren's general contempt of his older brother.

Shaking his head in confusion, Darren ordered the butler to drive them back to their residences.  
At the same time, Darrel continued to snicker all the way back home, still laughing away loudly.

"Darren, oh Darren, sometimes you make me laugh so loud... _Ha ha ha..._"  
"Shut up. I can hear your laughter a mile away," ordered his kid bro, who just took his earphones off to find a laughing hyena at the back of the limousine.  
"Whatever... _ah ha ha..._"

Slowly, the break of dawn arrived with its soothing glow of light blue and white from beyond the city's horizon, as if to comfort her from all that has happened, that were all simply just tragic circumstances. Blowing her nose away loudly in a manner rather unbecoming of a pubescent girl, Lena had no choice but to stop crying in spite of herself, as she continued trudging her way to _Madame Tussa_. Shih Lin is seven districts away, which would mean a walk of at least three to four hours. To make matters worse, the walk is mostly uphill. If not for the fact that Adamu's wallet had enough money, this would be an impossible task. Then again, the nearest bus depot is at least two districts away, and Lena is decidedly human and decidedly tired.

A very, very long hike beckoned.

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 3: Status Report

**Spring Chapter 3: Status Report**

A clear and crisp morning air is always the freshest of starts to a morning, even to sailors who were most accustomed with stuff like deck-cleaning and the likes. Throw a cute girl into the fray, one might think that that's the best life can offer, which was exactly what happened when a young girl no more than the age of fourteen emerged from the bunk deck, a sparkling head of red coupled with a doe pair of eyes.

"Gentlemen, a very good morning to all of you," began the pre-pubescent, girlish voice on the deck, in full view of men at least twice her age. "It's a fresh morning isn't it, deck hands?"

"Good morning, madame." It was the least expected of responses, one might say, from these men. "_Madame..._"  
"See, Trevor? What did I tell you? You'll freeze up just trying to call this here girl 'madame'! It ain't sound right fer no one, huh?" Whispered one of the deck hands as he scrubbed the railings clean of fingerprints.  
"I see your point, Marcus. The scarier thought is having a First Warrant Officer on deck, though..."

Indeed, for many not accustomed to the unusual sight of a girl who stands no more than one-fifty centimeters, it was not too convincing for the new shiphands that their direct commander could actually handle a rifle at all. It was even less convincing for the new shiphands once they learnt that their commander is a non-commissioned officer at that age.

"I can't believe we're asked to serve in such a mockery of the so-called high-and-mighty military, Trevor," Marcus shook his head in despair. "We ain't got no future here."  
"Let's wait and find out then. Stop yapping, too, you're making me irritated."  
"Oh, whatever--"  
"Attention," the girl called out suddenly. "You are dismissed from cleaning the deck now; I want to see your bunk cabins prim and proper in fifteen mikes!"

"Yes, madame, no problem madame!" Cried out the rest of the soldiers as they scooted off towards the stairs in a hurried, yet still orderly manner.

"Hold your foot there, new mates," ordered the girl before Trevor and Marcus could follow their seniors into the bunk deck. "I haven't seen you two newbies around. What are your names? You, the blonde one, talk first."

"Uh... I... Private First Class Marcus Wayne--"  
"When you're on land, you _pirate_, that's the rank you get. Up here, we call you a Seaman, get it?"  
"Y...yes, madame."  
"And you, muscleman?"  
"Corporal Trevor Duran... Sorry... Seaman First Class Trevor Duran."  
"Quick on the ball," the girl smiled. "I like you somehow."  
"Thank you, madame."  
"Your fifteen minutes started two minutes ago, mates."

Trevor tugged Marcus' arm quickly. "Yes, we got you, madame. Move it, Marcus!"  
"Uhh... goodbye, madame," blurted Marcus as he hurriedly spun around and made a run for the cabin.

"_Exercising_ your boys again, Crim?" Spoke Kaori as she emerged from her officer's cabin on the main deck. "And as usual, giving the new hands the extra welcome."  
"They seemed like they need to get used to me," replied the girl as she began to tie her long, flowing hair into a smooth ponytail. "There's always the matter of age and progression around here."

"Glad you recognise that, Crim. Anyway, we've finalised the battle plans for tonight, but I think the other warrant officers might have a point or two to protest yet again. We're meeting on the next hour."  
"You mean Uncle Chuck and Uncle Perry?"  
"Nobody else that I know of," chuckled Kaori. "Seriously, Crim, you're your father's pride. You can go really far, but there is the matter of the minimum age requirement for officer school, you know."  
"I'm happy remaining as a non-commissioned officer, Kaori. You know how the Marines pride themselves in over-protecting their sources of intelligence, and I didn't think I want any of that."

Kaori tilted her head left and right. "Luckily there is nobody else on the deck."  
"I heard that," laughed Akitsuki as he too came out from his officer's cabin, adjacent to Kaori's own. "I'm going to court martial you for disrespecting your superiors, you know."  
"Aww, come on, Aki, I know you're joking," whined Crim in a teasing manner. "I'm just a _harmless little fourteen-year-old_, you know."  
Akitsuki rolled his eyes around in mock disbelief.  
"Fine, fine. Let this man a little joke when he's the one responsible to draw up today's battle plans, ya know."  
"Ha, and I didn't do any of the planning, then?" Growled Kaori, her voice a mix of tease and grumbles.  
"Very little of it, as far as I know," winked Akitsuki, ducking a mock-punch from Kaori.

"...Oh, look at the time," blurted Crim. "I gotta check out on me pirates before we all go _Land Ahoy_!"  
"Run along, girl," grinned Akitsuki. "So, have you called ol' Macdonald and Chuck the Cap-Man?"  
"Perry and Chuck? I told them about it already."  
Akitsuki peered into his handheld device, a high-tech tool fashioned into the shape of an oval mobile phone for the sake of ergonomics. "I sure hope that this ship has enough resources to at least _destroy_, if not _secure_ the factory."

"It's going to be a bit tight on the budget, then." Kaori spoke, before slapping her head in a sudden jolt of memory.  
"Oh, did you manage to--"  
"I already did, don't worry. Flower-boy's new prototype assault rifle just came in from the labs. It's in my locker now, and it's all yours later, alright? I heard from the lads that it packs enough power to blow a cow away."  
"How disgusting a description. Couldn't you have made it sound better?"  
"Oh, that sounded disgusting? How about a wild boar then?"  
"Oodama Aki--!"

What came of that cry was a loud thud to the main deck.

***

"...Lena... Kotsworth, you say... that's your name, young lady?"

Madame Freya Tussa, a woman with an apparent taste for pretty, expensive frocks that complement her middle-aged beauty, sized up Lena's relatively medium frame - at one sixty-five, a girl from downtown could really be considered taller than the general population - and her rather dirtied features, something which the mage did not bother to correct because she didn't have enough time. You could forgive Lena for feeling lucky, since the shorter Madame Tussa picked her out of so many other girls who seemed more qualified than herself, and certainly any one of the other girls must've been prettier.

"Well, down here at my workplace, you gotta show me that you can _be_ a maid, Lena. Mind you, we're not a lodge or pub or anything else, we hire people like _you_ for the sake of the work. It's not a joke, girls."  
"What about me, Madame?" Cried another young lady from behind, one that Lena decided had much more refined demeanor than her uncouth self with her silky-smooth skin, and hands that visually gave Lena the impression of a pampered lady.  
"You, lady, are out! Don't think for a second I didn't knew you were one of them East Berksley ladies who think they can laze off here! Begone!"

The girl became very annoyed at the raven-haired woman, proceeding to stomp her way out while being stared upon by many.  
"Now, Miss Kotsworth..."  
"Yes, madame...?"  
"Show me how you work up this window," she ordered Lena, pointing her finger at a very huge plexiglass window. "Your bucket is in the corner there, and you have one minute to impress me. I don't care how you do it."

_A window this big is still not a problem_, decided Lena, _I'd done cleaning for an entire building not too long ago_. _The pay was peanuts, though..._

To prove her mental point, she began to prepare her entire body with _mana_ energy, and amazed the spectacles off Madame Tussa as the lass levitated herself - bucket included - to the top of the plexiglass window. Slicing the cloth given to her in half with aforementioned powers, Lena used - but did not touch at all - the two pieces of cloth with both hands to mop up the window, as she descended from the top swiftly, stopping only to rinse the cloth of the dirt - or get the cloth to rinse itself, whichever way seemed more appropriate a descriptive. When Lena set foot on the wooden floor of Madame Tussa's residence once again, the entire plexiglass window gave off a shine as magical and magnificent as Lena herself had ever been.

"Splendid, young girl, absolutely splendid! You're hired, I say, you're hired **immediately**! Send this girl... what's your name again?"  
"Lena... Kotsworth, madame..."  
"Ah, Lena, please, follow our butler. He'll show you to the measurement room! You'll be setting off tonight on a brand new boat - amazing, wouldn't you say?"  
"...certainly, madame."  
"My word, I'm so amazed!" Exclaimed the Madame, almost prancing about in utter joy, as though a heavy migraine was lifted off her being in one little spell as she clasped her hands together excitedly.

"I can't even think straight now! You're just so amazing, Miss Kotsworth!"  
"Thank you, madame," smiled Lena, adding in her head, "I might have overdone it a little bit."  
"Ah, enough of the talk. Any more girls out here that can do better than this girl here Lena, raise your hands!"

***

All the girls were eager to cry foul - magick users have an advantage, they protest - but Madame Tussa would have none of that. Lena followed Madame Tussa's moustached butler towards another room adjacent to the Madame's main hall, which upon entrance, stank like an unused basement that had little in the way of windows for ventilation.  
The lights, bright as they were coming out of lamps that gave the effect of burning flames, lit up the stairwell as it seemed to spun for an eternity. At the end of the seemingly endless stairwell was a huge array of maids' uniforms, but more importantly, a small distance away from the uniforms, a woman with a head of silver sat, as if waiting in silent for something. _Rather impatient she must've been_, thought Lena, given the huge irritated look that spread over the fifty-something woman's petite body and equally petite face.

"Missus Javier, this girl requires measurements," spoke the butler bluntly.  
"Leave me be, butler," blasted Mrs. Javier, as she stood up to her full height - about that of Lena's own. "I'll do it now. What's your name, young girl?"  
"Le... Lena Kotsworth, madame..."  
"That's two "Lee" or just L-E?"  
"L-E, madame. I'm sorry for stuttering. I'm a bit... _tired_ now..."

Lena lost her footing immediately after the word "now", and was in danger of hitting her face on a nearby rack of laced maids' uniforms, had Mrs. Javier not stepped in and stretched her arm out to grab Lena by the width of her body.

"What the heck was that for, young lady," Mrs. Javier cried out. "For heaven's sake, you're... gosh, you're _m-exhausted._ What the _devil_ had you been doing, lady?"  
"...helping a wastrel get away without the just deserts he deserved," observed Lena of herself quite bluntly, still unable to forgive herself for letting Darren's wastrel brother get away.  
"You're not making sense now, girl. Butler, you there?"  
"You... _spoke_, Missus?"  
"Who _else_ could be speaking?! I need a bowl of hot soup now. You happen to have some in the kitchen, no?"  
"But those were Madame Tussa's leftovers, Missus--"  
"I don't give a shit! I need the soup now, and I mean it!"  
"...be right back, Missus."

What got Mrs. Javier terrified was that Lena was not actually crying out aloud, yet was streaming tears as she entered unconsciousness. Slowly, and strangely, Mrs. Javier found herself shedding her defenses in spite of herself and being conscious of herself knowing this girl only for a few minutes, feeling a deep connection despite being total strangers. In short, Mrs. Javier felt like hugging Lena like a daughter she never was able to conceive.

"Butler, would you be faster on that soup, god _damned_ it! You're slow, that's what you are!"  
"Can't you see mah old bones are trying to be faster, you old hag?! Here you go! ...Do you want the Madame to be notified of this?"  
"Not for the moment, not yet. Can't you spare a thought at all, you old fogey?"

Slowly but surely, Mrs. Javier fed the still-warm soup into Lena by the lips, holding her head softly yet firmly as the liquid contents of the soup slowly flowed into Lena's bone-thin, malnourished being.

"There you go... slowly and easy does it..."

Before long, Lena's eyelids began to flutter for a moment as she started to regain spatial awareness, albeit only half so. Lena felt her back being propped up by _somebody_, and was barely able to make out Mrs. Javier's face as she spoke again. For a moment, though, the young mage genuinely felt that she was _somewhere back home, in her mother's arms... ten years before._

"_M...mother...?_" Began Lena, the whites of her eyes showing as she spoke in a half-conscious state, still unable to get a grip on reality due to her mana-exhausted state of being, but was clearly relaxed given the subdued tone of her voice compared to earlier.

That which Lena had mouthed was a mere simple word, even if it was mistakenly blurted out, but Mrs. Javier's whole being trembled upon hearing Lena call her "Mother". Mrs. Javier's trembling were not of the fearful variety, though; she hugged Lena tighter and fed her slower, just so she could savour the moment that fleeted past, even though she knew it wasn't for real.

"Missus... The Madame sends for the girl. Shall I talk to her about it--"  
"No... not for now, Harold," she refused. "I shall talk to the lady."  
"...This is the first time in almost eight years you addressed me _personally_, Tina," observed the butler solemnly as Mrs. Javier walked up the stairs of the basement.  
"...None of your business. I shall have a word with the lady. Now if you'll excuse me, take care of the girl while I am away."  
"Certainly... Tina."

Mrs. Javier stopped upon the end of the butler Harold's last word, then slowly turned around to glance him sideways, still on the stairwell that leads to brighter lights within the lodge.

"...Harold, I'd... prefer you address me by my surname..." she mouthed softly, as Harold took his slightly-wetted monocle off, and gave it a quick rub, his face solemn but sad. "The... hurt of yesteryears... are only beginning to heal..."  
"Yes... yes, I understand... get going... Missus Javier... You have my word, I will take care of this girl until you return."  
"...That'll be nice, thank you..."

***

"Ah, Mrs. Javier... What brings you up here? It's been almost four months since you last came out of the basement..." There was a heartfelt delight in the way Madame Tussa spoke, much in the way one would address a long-lost friend.  
"It was warmer for winter, Madame," replied Mrs. Javier. "The girl you sent to me..."  
"Why? Has she angered you? I'll send her away immediately if--"  
"No, no, no... it isn't that, Madame..." Spoke Mrs. Javier slowly, as she slowly adjusted the folds on her long dress.  
"...Did something happen to her?"  
"Yes, she... fainted a while ago."  
"How horrible. How is she now? Does she need Doctor Bernard?"  
"She needs nothing else but her rest now, Madame. All I can assure to you is that she will be fit to go for the corvette."  
"That's a mighty relief to hear. How about yourself?"  
"...I can only say that I have somewhat regained control over my sad life, Madame."  
"Don't say so, Tina... I mean..."  
"Do not worry yourself so, Freya _darling_," reassured Mrs. Javier. "My old bones and my frail heart may be hindrances, but I am still very much myself. Now, Madame, if you will excuse me..."  
"Wait, Tina, I haven't finished saying what I--"

But the door was long shut, and the frail figure long gone.

"...We're back to normal again," sighed the Madame sadly, her eyes glistened by slivers of tears. "She still wouldn't let go..."

***

The apartment that Adamu and the three kids of the Waywards lived in was not the fanciest of homes, but it would have to do. Damaged furniture scavenged from the dump was all they had, since they didn't have enough to afford for the more stable oak-based furniture, which could easily cost in the tens of thousands of mesos and are rare finds in rubbish dumps. Right now, though, Adamu was more interested in the wallet he had retrieved from Trinity Street some time ago, when he was about to settle some scores with the Sanger jocker, Darrel.

_Just who the hell is Lena Kotsworth?!_

"Lena Kotsworth... Lena _Kotsworth_... Say, Karen... Have you got any idea what kinda enemies I might have had with mages?"  
"_Mages_, Adamu?" Snorted Karen. "Not many mages in Kerning City, ya know. Most of 'em mages are _way_ up north in Ellinia, ya know."  
"Doesn't mean a thing, stupid girl. There's a small population in town, don't you know?"  
"Hey, you idiot Jason! Who gave you the right to call me _stupid_?"  
"Stupid, _stupid_, _stupid_ girl!"  
"I dare you to call me that again! _Hya! Hya! Hya!_" The ballistic Karen launched kicks in Jason's general direction, sending him running off for cover.  
"Nya nya, you can't hit me with your kicks -- OOF!"  
Adamu sighed away as one of Karen's kicks finally connected with Jason's lower jaw, and very painfully, too.

"A...Adamu..." Terry spoke, ever the shy, nerdy boy with oversized glasses. "The... The Vigilante HQ's letter."  
"Ah, thanks, Terry. Let's see..." Adamu sliced the letter open slowly as he watched Jason and Karen bicker and quarrel over anything and everything in the background. The pair had been jumpy ever since what happened at school, and it was nice to see them returning to normal... although how 'normal' it was for them to quarrel _physically _in the first place was far too subjective to cure Adamu's growing migraine.  
"_Mobilisation_? _New Island_? What is this...?"  
"What's that you got on ya hands, Adamu?"  
"Oi, oi, _wait_, Karen," flailed Adamu as Karen snagged the letter away from Adamu's hands.  
"'Dear Adamu Fuitami... You have been selected for a nationwide governmental mobilisation exercise of combat-capable personnel registered under the -- whatever the hell that is, skip, skip, skip... -- huh? That's a good paycheck you got here!"  
"Is it? Let's see... This _is_ a lot of money. _Three quarters of a million mesos._"  
"Wow, that's enough to buy all of us a new handheld, dude," jabbed an excited Jason. "This dinky apartment can get a facelift, too!"  
"Couldn't you think of how much effort we can save trying to get a university education, stupid boy?"  
"Are you even smart enough for one of them _education_, you little hussy?"  
"Why you--!"

The more important question in Adamu's head - _why the money_? Feeling a bit suspicious, he retrieved the letter from a still-bickering Karen and flipped to the back of the letter. There, the reason was clear as day.  
"_Attention: Owing to circumstances not under the World Government's control, there is a risk of death under various circumstances, including but not limited to, death by such hostile actions as enemy gunfire or terrorist activities. Owing to the aforementioned, all participating personnel will receive a substantial second payout if they are able to see through the length of the mobilisation, which would last anything from one to three months... _No wonder the payout is so ridiculously high."  
Basically speaking, it is war.

Adamu crumpled the letter by the width, and slowly pondered over the mobilisation. He could choose not to go, but he had the three kids to take care of. They weren't his children, but it was his responsibility the moment he signed the guardian papers, and lately money has been rather short. He didn't dare to tell the children, but he had been quietly using up whatever little his father had left for him in the bank for the sake of the children. Odd-job laboring pays very little even if he was talented with the flash-jump, and he _did_ have trouble making ends meet.

But if he left, who was to take care of the kids--

"Ding dong" went the apartment bell. It was Junko, together with a rather irate, slightly injured Jared.  
"Junko, Jared, what are the both of you doing here?"  
"Well, we came to visit the kids... and you. Here's a token of appreciation from the school."

Adamu was semi-appalled to find a huge gift basket in the doorway, filled with everyday condiments that they could really use, plus some rather useful extras like candies, a basketball, and, of all things... a pair of new sneakers.

"We found your sneakers to be worn out, so the teachers' association chipped in to get one pair for ya," smiled Junko. "Jared, you'd to give him something too."  
"Do I have to?"  
"Jared Davies!"  
"Fine, fine, Junko," winced Jared. "Here, sir. I'm sorry I said some rather mean things about you. I didn't know--"  
"As long as you knew why, it's all right. Karen, get him the ointment from the cabinet."  
"Aye, aye, Captain Adamu!"  
"That punch I gave you was definitely not light." Adamu jabbed at Jared's neck lightly, to the latter's immense pain. "Your entire neck is blackened. Junko, you didn't happen to give him eggs for breakfast?"  
"Umm... That's the only thing I knew how to cook... Heh heh, heh heh," laughed Junko sheepishly.  
"Don't give him _that_ while he's nursing a blue-black. It'll only worsen his injuries. Ah, Thanks, Karen," he mouthed as Karen passed him a small bottle of brown liquid. "Jared, hold your neck up."  
"What?"  
"Ya might wanna sit down, this is going to take a while."  
"Huh...? WAAAAAARGH! Oh my gawd what the fuck -- What the burning shit is this?!" Yelled a violently surprised Jared as the ointment proved too hot on the touch for him.  
"Shh, not so loud," cooed Adamu as he covered Jared's mouth with his other hand.

"You're kinda lucky today, Jared," teased Jason. "That ointment he got is his own stuff, and it's really effective... although it will hurt a lot."  
"Aren't you being kind, Jason, by telling him this only _after_ the damage was done?"  
"Hey, you little hussy--"  
"Not in the presence of the teacher, you both," hissed Adamu. "Don't worry a bit... it's going to be done soon..."  
"Ugh... It hurts like hell, dude! Tell me the next time -- hey... the pain is not so bad now..."

"Junko..."  
"Yea, Adamu?"  
"We can't have your basket, although I appreciate the concern," spoke Adamu as he stood up. "Since you guys got me the sneakers, I will take it to show I appreciate everything, but the rest... I think donating it to the needier would be better."  
"Is that so? Well... I think the Church would appreciate your gesture then."  
"Please convey my regards to Pastor Gregory, tell him it's from the school and not like, from me. Since it's you guys, ya know... alright?"  
"Sure thing. Okay, then, I shouldn't be holding you guys up. Come on, Jared, we've got a movie to catch!"  
"But my _neck_, Junko!"  
"Be a man, gee! Look at the things that are gonna mummify Adamu! You're just _slightly_ injured!"

Adamu chortled at the thought of being regarded as a mummy, which wouldn't be so far off the mark since he had to wrap up the bleeding from both arms, legs and the top part of his chest. The couple left the Fuitami apartment somewhat happy, smiles all over as they took their last turn around the corner of the corridor.

"Isn't this typical Adamu to look heroic and reject the glaring big gift that's for us?" Hinted Karen as she strolled to the kitchen.  
"Well, I know they gifted that just because I saved some kids from the fire, but that meant nothing and really, we're not short on those. I come from West Berksley, ya know. All these are extravagances to us, I'd say."  
"Didn't that Lena Kotsworth come from West Berksley, too? How come she mugged _you_ for the money, then?"  
"She is? Oh, right, I totally forgot that she came from West Berksley. Looks like it's time to check up with Alexander the Fatso--"

_"This is today's newsflash at nine-thirty in the morning, brought to you by the good people at KNN. Today's host - Darius Eisenhower."_

The television flickered to life as Jason tuned in to the news channel, much to Adamu's surprise. It should have been children's cartoons, but Adamu knew little in the way of the television, having waned off it for almost half a decade.  
_  
"Good morning Kerning City, thank you for tuning in to KNN at nine-thirty. Today's highlights on the coast will be on a shocking double-murder in the district of West Berksley. Police received reports approximately five hours ago of the incident that happened at Telling Street, with witnesses testifying that a young mage was responsible for killing Alexander Leighton, 31, a low-end career middleman plying his trade in the district from his residence. Recent reports suggest that another person only known as The Snarl, has likewise been murdered by the same mage not far away from Mr. Leighton's apartment. He died in hospital at approximately seven thirty-seven, after doctors fail to resuscitate him from shock as a result of blood loss and trauma... Currently, there are no mugshots available to identify the suspect, but it has been ascertained by the police to be a teenage blonde wearing a faded pink skirt. Any member of the public with information should immediately contact your nearest police outpost..."_

"There goes my only lead," shook Adamu. "I have other things to worry about, though. _Oh, friggin' crap!_"  
"What got you, Adamu?"  
"Junko... Oh gosh, I forgot to ask if she could take care of you while I'm away."  
"What? You're _serious_ about the exercise, Adamu? I was just kiddin' about the money, ya know!"  
"Don't worry ya 'lil noggin' about this!"  
"But Adamu--" Jason began, the first one to protest.  
"I'll email back everyday to update you on my situation, alright? When did they say to report for mobilisation?"  
"Let's see... three days later, nine-twenty in the morning at Lith Harbor. No cost as long as you have the letter with you. But Adamu... please, is it necessary?" Karen pleaded, her eyes furrowed in sadness as she tugged at Adamu's shirt. Adamu had never _ever_ seen the headstrong, independent Karen in this state; obviously he's succeeded as a _dependable_ legal guardian.

In frustration, Adamu pulled the blinds up and pushed the dusty windows in his apartment outwards, raking up particles all over as he dipped his head in deep consideration amidst the choking dust. _The responsibilities of a guardian were heavier than he imagined 'em to be, money issues notwithstanding._

"Sorry, kids, I've gotta be honest wit'cha about my assets, or... the _lack_ of it, rather. I ain't ya superman, ya know..."

_***_

"That's the plan we have now," said Kaori as she flicked the lights of the conference room on. "We attack them from the three points mentioned by the sergeant, and we make it good the first time."  
"Madam Inoue, don'tcha think it's a bit obvious to attack them in such a direct manner?" Asked Master Warrant Officer Perry Macdonald, his hair - or the bald shiny head in place of his hair - being somewhat shiny in the strong lighting of the conference room, as he blew a whiff of cigar away from Crim, who was immediately beside the veteran. "Sorry fer the cigar, lil' girl."  
" -cough- Gotten used to you, Uncle Perry," joked Crim, even though she had a hard time resisting the urge to choke on the putrid-smelling smoke.  
"We don't have no concealment facilities here," replied Kaori. "I think it'll be better to attack them when they are least aware, that's why I said to attack at _exactly_ midnight. It will minimise casualties and bring us quick control of the facility."  
"No will do, Kaori," interjected another Master Warrant Officer, Chuck Douglas, a black-haired man sporting a cap on his head on all occasions. "We don't know the internal structures of the building. I think we need an on-site scout before this can commence."

There was a knock on the door, and Crim bounced straight off her chair to check on the door.  
"Who is it outside? There's a meeting going on here now, is this urgent?"

Outside the door, Shiba had to will himself to cool down. _"Come on, you are not Furuyami Shiba,"_ he told himself.  
"Captain Bai She, of Henesys-Ellinia Intel, reporting," he coolly replied.

"...Bai She?" Wondered Crim. "It's rare to have somebody who names himself after a snake. Still, what is it, sir? I have official authority equalling a major's, and I _need_ to know what your business in here is."

"I have field intelligence with regards to a suspect building south of the L.S.T. we're bound towards. This is latest intelligence from my unit, madam."

"Not one of them intel kids again," snorted Douglas as he spun his cap around. "Whaddaya make of this, _maestro_?"  
"I say we let him in," suggested Akitsuki. "A fellow officer can't do harm."

And so Shiba - as Captain Bai She - obtained access to the ongoing conference. Remembering that he was an officer, Shiba saluted the Admirals as he entered the room."  
"Captain Bai She, reporting!" He saluted aloud, to the point where the noise in the entire room was cancelled out by his crystal-clear show of respect.  
"At... at ease," Akitsuki returned the salute, feeling somewhat spoilt by Shiba's loud salute. "You have information for us?"  
"Yes, sir! Please do take a look at the intelligence that I have for you!"

Shiba plugged his device into the projector nearby, and immediately the hotspots on the map were supplemented by overhead satellite photos and the building was given a second level of detail that clearly shows where the more mission-critical facilities, such as the power and water supplies, were located.

"Madam, I have word from Intelligence straight from the Icy-Draw," Shiba addressed Kaori as she reflected on the battle plan that they had both enacted. "We are given Priority Highest recommendation to attack the facility from its east, as the building is on a rocky ridge on that side. We could use the ridge to support a light mechanised squad that can attack the north via the metal bridge..."

_Priority Highest..._ that was a term she had not heard of in ten years, and more importantly, most officers at Shiba's age - a batch of officers that the veteran specialists would mock at as the _clean thumbs -_ would have been trained to use the alternative _"Prime-Ten"._ As Shiba spoke away animatedly in the name of the _Informations Chamber's Direct Response and Assistance Group_ (or the _ICDRA group_), thoroughly convincing everyone that he was not just a typical clean thumb, Kaori decided to excuse herself as she made her way onto the main deck.

There was one call to make, and it was to someone at the bottom of the corvette. Specialist Alex Lee, better known to Kaori as the Information Counter; as far as the Admiral can remember, this fellow has proven, _reliable_ contacts in all of the Marines' three services. That was all she needed to justify her call.

"...Specialist Alex, please, this is Admiral Inoue speaking."  
"Admiral K, hey! What's up?" Spoke the cheerful voice that reeked of Kerning City. "Ya got a hot issue with me?"  
"Hey, Alex, I need you to contact Intelligence on my behalf. I'm kinda busy now."  
"What, the intelligent _clean thumbs_? I thought one mass of 'em just got on the next corvette, since that dude you rescued told them a lot. That dude's kinda sissy though... brrr, _shudder meh_!"  
"What? The main Intel crew is on the next corvette? You hundred percent sure?"  
"'fer course I am, my dear Admiral! Ain't no pay rise I gonna get if I lied to ya!"  
"... okay, thanks a lot, I owe you one."  
"Yea, baby, you owe me one big one. I've yet to be promoted yet, and I've got kids to feed!"  
"Yes, yes, but the Commissar is unwilling... I'll talk to him the next time I get the chance."  
"Aww jeez, ya can just haul my ass up to the Chief and tell 'im I am _good_!"  
"Yes, yes, I'll highly recommend you, _alright_?"  
"I got ya word on that, Admiral!"  
"No worries, Alex. Goodbye for now."

Kaori suddenly felt a tinge of familiarity despite the fact that Captain Bai She was more than he looked, as she hung the line up on Specialist Alex. She scratched her head, wondering what to do. _How the devil did this Captain of dubious origins get on the corvette? Why was he not discovered until now? Where was he when the pre-move conference was held?_

Then, unexpectedly, another line came ringing through Kaori's device, and it was a number Kaori was decidedly unfamiliar with, even though she knew from the caller identification that it was a high-level military line. Hesitant, she picked up the phone and spoke cautiously, wary of any traps.  
"Good afternoon, Admiral Inoue speaking."  
"Madam, I hope you have not been alarmed by Captain Shiba -- I mean, Captain _Bai She_."  
"Who... is this?"  
"I'm from the InfoCham, but I cannot reveal who I am to you," replied the young woman on the other end. "I can only tell you that the Chief has authorised me absolute freedom to deploy able personnel on board the next five waves of corvettes, civilian or military. The person who entered your pre-battle conference on the S.S. Axel's main deck, is Special Operative Furuyami Shiba, now currently as Captain Bai She. He will be assisting you and Admiral Oodama _indefinitely_."  
"How the devil... did you know he..."  
"I don't want to explain anything," replied the girlish voice curtly. "Also, I don't want his identity to be exposed."  
"Under orders of the Chief?"  
"Absolutely, Madam. Don't worry, he's _harmless_."  
"Is that all? Then I shall hang up--"  
"Oh, wait up. I forgot to tell you one _other_ important matter."  
"What is it? Spit all you want in one go, _will you_?"  
"Simple, really. I did _not_ call you, and you spoke to _nobody_. You know what I mean, don't you?"

Kaori found herself growing irritated of this pompous girl on the other end. "Suit yourself, _woman_," she spat, hanging up the phone in the presence of a recently-dismissed Shiba, who came out of the conference room as soon as his presentation was complete. Shiba overheard the last line that Kaori spoke, but all he did was nothing more than to shake his head and smile away.

"That woman has an effect on just about every other Marine," he chuckled away quietly as he saluted the Madam upon sight. As the blue-haired, red-irises boy of Oriental origin made his way down the decks, Kaori stared intently at his back, absolutely suspicious and somewhat paranoid. At this point of time, Akitsuki emerged from the conference room with a layer of zest over his movements, Shiba having thoroughly convinced him of pinpoint intelligence that they had been searching for.

"All right, K! We got a sure-fire plan this time around... umm... Kaori?"  
Kaori was not there to share Akitsuki's joy, instead she was spacing out while trying to sort her chaotic thoughts.  
"...oh, um, right... yea?"  
"Kaori, you all right? You have been away for a while, and you're not quite yourself now. Did something happen at Lith Harbor?"  
"No, no, nothing happened," reassured Kaori. "Now, where's Crim?"  
"I think she went to the bunk deck again to inspect her men. She's still the reliable little woman we knew of since Kith Harbor," remarked Akitsuki. "On the other hand... You _seriously_ don't look well, Kaori."  
"I'm really fine, no worries you little fairy," replied Kaori as she made a slight twitch to her lips that, she thought, might just look like a grin to anybody. "I was just thinking of those days back at the Amaryllis."  
"Ah, no wonder you're spaced out then," replied a thoroughly reassured Akitsuki. "Don't think too much about it. The Amaryllis you knew of is not _really _the Bloody Amaryllis today."  
"I hope so, Aki, I really hope so..."

***

"Well... this is it, kids," sighed Adamu as the civilian vessel - a large cruise ship bearing uncanny resemblance to a large whale - loomed in sight of the black, streamlined coupe that the quartet rode in. "And, thanks for the ride again, Jared."  
"Don't thank me. I'm jealous that Junko gives _you_ more protection than she ever did to _me_," sulked Junko's fiance, to the giggles of the kids on board. "Anyway, you sure about this? I mean, I'm not really sure that the girl loves me since the events in school and on Trinity Street..."  
"Ah, that's Junko for you. She knows what reason really is about better than the both of us. Your intent is right, but you're somewhat judgemental and reckless, so she gets irritated," reasoned Adamu. "But that doesn't mean she doesn't love you. I mean, come on, you must've kissed her close to a hundred times already, while I never even got one from anyone at all."  
"That sounds like a mighty relief," beamed Jared as the kids giggled at the self-professed bachelor. "You're one hell of a good guy, ya know. Even after what happened between us."  
"Not really," was the reply from the ever-humble Adamu. " If I'm a good guy, I might consider letting Darrel Sanger go, but no, I have every plan to kill the wussy when I see him. I kind of hope I do see him where I'm being mobilised to."  
"I have your word for it. Here, a device. My own money."  
"This is kind of an expensive gift from ya--"  
"Just take it," hissed Jared. "Junko will kill me if I didn't give _this_ to you!"

Adamu chortled away and happily accepted the device - spankin' black! - from someone who hasn't known him for more than two weeks, three at best maybe. The vessel honked away into the distance, and the whistles were sounded from the ship hands.

"Last call from them ship hands, it seems," Jared noted. "Get goin' already. Junko and I will take care of these three little rascals--"  
The three kids took as much issue with the usage of the word "rascals", as they did the number of turns to pummel Jared around, even if it was half in jest.  
"--fine, fine, three little _angels... _while you're away."  
"I'm countin' on ya," bowed Adamu. "Thanks a million!"  
"Don't mention it. Get going, dude, bowing ain't gonna getcha a ship ride!"

Adamu picked up his traveller's bag, and utilised the pavement to his advantage as he sped forward in a series of quick flash-jumps, eventually reaching the inside of the vessel without really going through the proper channels by, quite literally speaking, _flying_ onto the main deck. He did this by jumping repeatedly between the corvette's hull and two tall pillars, "triangulating" his momentum as he leapt closer and closer to the main deck. On his last jump, he roared as he channeled his energy onto the stone pillar via his foot, terrifying the people on the main deck as he flew about uncontrollably and began to hit things - soft boxes and objects at first, but eventually other people as well.

"Whoa, flying _human_!" The apt description came from a bespectacled, laptop-wielding geek nearby, almost oblivious to the danger.  
"What in the name of... _waaargh_!" Blurted an unfortunate fair-skinned bone-thin guy as he took the brunt of Adamu's headbutt on his stomach.  
"Incoming!" Shouted a cowboy nearby, sounding the warning early enough for everyone to avoid the mess that was the flying Adamu and the aforementioned airborne unlucky guy.

"That was a bit _too _fast," exclaimed Adamu as the trio below laughed at his escapade. "What's there to laugh at, you kids?!" He shouted, blasting away at his charges from below the ship, their laughter heard by him from the distance. Adamu then unexpectedly felt a hand pull his shoulder backwards... specifically, the right hand of an angry-looking Henesysian youngster wearing a green-black schemed china suit and a pair of black jeans.  
"What's the big idea, you _nitwit_?" Shouted the youngster, the veins on his head rather thick with rage. "You pickin' a fight with me?"

Adamu had bumped into him earlier while flying onto the ferry, and that got the youngster's blood boiling.

"Cool it, friend. We do not need to get upset," cooed the other guy, his upper body bereft of clothing and obviously bearing a hulking, muscular build that intimidated all but the most experienced of battle-weary veterans.  
"I'm sorry about that, boy. Ain't no way not to miss the ship if I don't do that, I heard the ship's horn blow. Forgive a late dude, willja?"  
The china-suited youngster adjusted his clothing and continued to stare angrily at Adamu, thoroughly unsatisfied at Adamu's somewhat unapologetic response.  
"Whatever," he spat, picking up a large, rather showy pirate's hat that bore a skull-and-crossbones insignia on the front. "Let's go, buddy. Any second more staring at this retard, and I will only anger myself further."  
"Let us go to the ballroom. There are some fine wine being served there, I think," suggested the bare-chested fellow.  
"No thanks, I'm going to my bunker." The angry youngster stared back at Adamu, who whistled away on the main deck as he let the cool sea breeze caress his skin. "That kid won't have a bunk, but I don't give no two hoots."

Adamu laughed away, but whatever that he might be laughing about was lost to the winds, louder than his own vocals were. He was amused at the china-suit kid's response, finding it ridiculous and funny if not absolutely narrow-minded.  
"That kid amused me, really. **Haiya!**" growled the brunet as he pulled the skinny guy up from the deck floor. "Sorry about earlier."  
"I'd have done the same if I were you -- hey... aren't you **Fuitami Adamu** from the _Jordania Vigilante_?"  
"Huh? Umm, yes, I _am_ Adamu, and you are...?"  
"Jerry Timbers, one of the members on the **West Wing**."  
"Oh, no wonder I've never seen you before, I'm almost always on the **East Wing**. But how did you...?"  
"_The Vigilante Weekly_ splashed your picture on the front page last issue. I'd not have done what you did if I were you."  
"Appreciated, seriously... But it's us, remember?" Adamu grinned with a tinge of pride. "Us, the _Vigilante_."

***

"Miss Kotsworth, look at the _time_ now!" Bellowed Madame Tussa as Lena hurriedly tied her flowy hair into a ponytail. "We've got a ship to clean, and it's not going to be easy!"

Lena grimaced, but with a slight grin to boot as she grabbed the pail that awaited her at the janitor's room. This corvette they were on had hand grips and footholds on the sides of the windows for those agile or for the magically inclined, so Lena generally enjoyed the exercise in regulating mana energy. Of course, it was quite tough for her to regulate the mana flow to clean the windows simultaneously as she did during the demonstration, so smaller windows are still hand-wiped while the larger windows would be dealt with by standing on the footholds. Owing to this reason, for simplicity's sake she would often request Mrs. Javier to schedule her for large window cleaning.

"Lena deals with the larger windows, with Sally and Manami," declared Mrs. Javier. "Trisha, you and the five other girls will handle the smaller ones."  
"Why is it always Lena on the larger windows?" Protested Trisha, the fairest-skinned of the group of nine. "Those windows are much more straightforward! Those smaller windows are so complicated and the hand holds are so not useful!"  
"Don't you complain! Lena's constitution is still weak, and so she will be on the larger windows until I say she's fit to do the smaller windows! As maids employed on this corvette, the last thing you can do is complain!"  
"Tch!" Tutted the upset Trisha as Lena quickly scooted out of the scene to prevent any more awkwardness. _I will do the smaller windows, anyway, _thought Lena. _Better to get the job done faster and get more rest, since the timetable has work not only in the mornings and afternoons, but way up into midnights as well._

Hence, she glided from the top of the hand grip, sliding downwards slowly as she gripped her pail with her weaker left hand. Whenever it came to large windows, wiping is a must, as instructed by Madame Tussa, so she started off on her first window by gliding the window-cleaning cloth swiftly, wiping up the dirt and then quickly rinsing it.

"Hey, Lena, be careful," shouted the tan-skinned Sally as Lena worked on the window below hers. "The ship's on the move already!"

Indeed, the corvette was moving away from port, and amidst loud cheers she didn't know what for, and she cared naught for to begin with. The ship was swaying around more than usual, so Lena - weak constitution and all - swayed around harder than the rest of the maid's crew, since she had not fully recovered from the m-exhaustion that arose from overuse of mana energy. That, and a growing girl's _period_, are all compounding into one huge pain-in-the-ass, if one would pardon the horrible pun.

"For the love of gawd, the pain," she frowned, this time with the smile disappearing altogether. "If I ain't a mage, it would've been really messy already. _Gawd_..." she droned, resisting the urge to quit and stop altogether. Not when people within the large windows were looking at her.  
"Damned, look at the party crowd... They sure are livin' it up with all the music and whatnot, huh?" She remarked, while cleaning the window in as fast a speed as her pained body would allow - in other words, relatively slow. Realising that Madame Tussa's watchful eyes were staring from high above, the glint as glaring as the afternoon sunlight, she kept mum and continued to wipe the windows. Within the half-hour of the cooling afternoon, Lena was done with her assigned windows, keeping them as sparkly clean as she could in spite of her condition.

"Good girl, Lena, you're done so soon," smiled Madame Tussa as Lena pulled herself up with the hand holds. "Mrs. Javier's darling, as always, and she's not wrong about it at all. You _are _capable."  
"I won't take all the credit, Ma'am," spoke Lena as she glanced downwards to find Trisha struggling away with the five other girls. "I think I'll go and help Trisha's group, madame."  
"Oh? Suit yourself then, little miss," Madame Tussa cooed, satisfied at what she saw. "Your group is the first one in my fifteen years of management that I didn't have to worry much about. Now I can finally get to use some of those throat-soothing cream from the Florina Isles... what a relief!"

Lena did not reply verbally, only smiled away. It was nice being praised at, no matter who you are, she'd thought.

***

"Trisha?"

The fairest-skinned girl looked up, only to find Lena coming down from above, her hands trembling if for just a moment.  
"Lena?! What are you doing here?" cried a surprised Trisha.  
"I'm helping you clean these smaller windows," smiled Lena, the veins on her hands showing a rather deep, dangerous purple. "One more pair'f hands are always better, no?"

Trisha began to find herself blushing, somewhat in embarrassment. She'd laid a rather crude comment on Lena before they began work, but Lena still offered to help her in spite of the public fact that she had a weaker constitution. Trisha knew it was wrong, but her somewhat incorrigible, foul _mouth_ processed words before her _head_ did.

"I didn't need _you_ to help, Lena," was Trisha's response. "Mrs. Javier will have my head for this."  
"Oh, don't worry, she'll understand if I explained," reassured Lena. "Which windows aren't cleared up yet?"  
"We're left with the trickiest Sector Ten windows," blurted Trisha. "I doubt you'll be able to get there before you start to collapse of exhaustion again--"

But Lena wouldn't have no for an answer, obviously, as she waved goodbye and proceeded to skirt along the windows. Trisha admitted internally that _when Lena skirted the steps, she was just a sight to behold_, yet her praise would never be voiced out of her own throat all because of petty, petty pride. Shaking her head in confusion, she uttered a few curse words at herself as she continued to wipe what was left of her sector of windows.

Meanwhile, Lena took little effort out of her mana reserves as she skirted to the sector Trisha mentioned of. It was exactly like Trisha said - tricky. Owing to some kind of oversight, Lena noticed that the steps ended halfway along the sector of windows, and cleaning the windows on that particular sector was an extremely hassling business since the only two ways the cloth could reach the other half would be through an extension bar with the cloth attached to it, or through magical means. The fact that there are twenty windows on every sector meant that it was not a simple matter to get these windows cleaned, either way.

"We all dread this kind of thing that isn't really out fault," sighed Lena. "And I am going to lose my balance soon, too, if I'm not careful about this at all... damned."

As she mouthed off, her prophecy came true - in the form of a freak wave that hit her squarely by the right. The young mage yelped, almost losing her grip as she clung on for dear life. Her cloth and bucket, however, did not survive the wave, as it flew down the steps and into the seawater. Lena did all she could to move upwards, as she got hit by more and more of the waves of water. Trisha, who at this time had just completed wiping her sector of windows, noticed Lena's predicament and gagged as she saw a third wave slam into Lena's right side again.

"Oh, my fuckin' god! Girls, Lena's in trouble! She's at the troublesome sector!"  
"What? Why's she there?"  
"I ain't got no time to explain out here! We gotta save her!"

Lena would not surrender to the waves that easily, and she showed the seawater lots of teeth to prove her point. Aware of the risks of m-exhaustion, she tinged her palms with blue energy again, using it to strengthen her hold on all four limbs as she pulled herself further up and closer to the workers' deck. By the time she was three windows away from safety, though, she was too tired to move any further, knowing that she had exhausted her mana energy once again.

In this moment of weakness, she fell off the window with a louder yelp than before, scaring the rest of the maids who were horrified at her disappearance from the windows. Her voice, however, emerged from within the window as she put her head outside the next moment.

"I'm safe, girls! Stop... worrying... about me..." she said, before pulling herself in quickly to avoid straining herself any further. The unexpected waves took the mickey out of her, and in place of her fatigue was a head-splitting migraine. She felt herself frown so much, her face must have crumpled up like a cabbage. "Ugh... I'm feeling the puke, too..."

"Damned, this hurts..." She cursed, as she nursed her headache on the corridor, which she felt to be unusually quiet given the party she had noticed earlier. "I hope the crew comes here soon, I need some painkillers for this damned thing... Ouch."  
"Girl, you need some help?" spoke a brown-haired, lanky brunet, the only person along the almost-deserted corridor who noticed Lena's predicament. "What happened?"  
"My headache... _damned_," she squeaked. "I feel like pukin', too..."

The brunet shuffled through his belongings inside a stuffed-looking travellers' bag, and was close to throwing out everything he had ever owned in his life, before finally finding his own emergency-use medicine and a small bottle of water. Ignoring the mess he had created with his own bag, he slowly tilted the girl's head, allowing her to ingest the medicine on her own as he fed her the medicine slowly.

"Slowly does it, girl... You okay now?"

Lena stopped for a bit, shook herself and pressed her fingers around her cheek temples and forehead. "I'm... feeling... slightly better now. Thanks, whoever you are--"

"There she is! **Lena! _Lena_!**"

The brunet turned his head around, his eyes wide open as the girl's name echoed in his head. He dropped his wallet - rather - **Lena's** wallet - as he attempted to match picture with face. This was noticed by a responsive Trisha, as she, Mrs Javier and two other girls approached Lena, eager to get her out of the corridor and to rest.

"Sir, you dropped this?" Trisha spoke, simultaneously noticing that Lena's photo was inside. "**Wait a minute**, this ain't _your_ stuff. You tryin' to steal from a poor lil' girl, you **asshole**?"  
"Huh? Wait, what are you talking about?!"

Trisha knew that she never let her head run through the consequences of her own actions, ever. That much was pretty evident the moment her palm connected squarely with Adamu's face, sending the youngster staggering into his own bag - or rather, the mess around his bag. He tripped over one of the dailies he brought along to stave off the boredom, sending the newspaper flying around with him yelping out aloud as he painfully lost his balance.

"Trisha, what in heaven's name are you thinking?"  
"Mrs. Javier, this asshole had Lena's wallet --"  
"No, not that! Carry Lena back to our bunkers, **hurry**!" Ordered Mrs. Javier. "The girl's gone and done it _again_, no matter how many times I tell her not to!"

Trisha did not want to let the brunet get away so easily, but given that she had a job to do, she decided that stabbing an ever-effective middle finger to his face would do. And rude gestures the gutsy maid did, in the face of a rather surprised Adamu as he struggled to understand what had just happened... with his ass on the corridor.

Then the collective group of maids disappeared into a lift nearby, leaving the youngster thoroughly confused and completely messed up, in one way and then the other.

"...I've found her. I got slapped, and now I think I hurt my ass. _Now what?_" Adamu wondered aloud, still in a daze.

_To be continued.._


End file.
